


Calibrations

by aardvark_french



Series: Calibrations [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Artist Gerard Way, Basement Gerard Way, Black Parade Era, Bullets Era, Danger Days Era, Drama, Fluff and Angst, Gerard Way is a Sweetheart, Humor, M/M, Revenge Era, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 68,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22671016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aardvark_french/pseuds/aardvark_french
Summary: Trust me, Gerard Way is okay. He has a great group of friends, he just got some new additions to his comic book collection, and best of all, his band has just released their debut album, I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love. Sure, he doesn’t quite know where he stands with Frank, his impossibly beautiful rhythm guitarist, but he feels hopeful that Frank might just like him back.Then, Gerard’s future self, from the far-off year of 2019, arrives with a grave warning. Frank will die in a bus crash in 2016 unless the two of them team up to stop it from happening. As he recruits his various selves from different eras to join the mission, Gerard crashes his own wedding, gets hunted down by a mysterious organization called the Watch, falls even more in love with Frank, and desperately hopes that he can be what tomorrow needs.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Series: Calibrations [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752571
Comments: 282
Kudos: 241





	1. New Jersey 1992

It was a perfectly normal day in Belleville: the clocks were ticking, the streets were bustling, the Smashing Pumpkins were on the radio, and Gerard Way was in the basement. He’d been there ever since he came home from school three hours ago, and now, he had a pencil and a sketchbook in his hands and a million ideas bouncing around in his head, too many for him to ever put on paper. He wrote down what he could, and he tried to sketch the vivid pictures in his head. Sometimes, his characters felt like they could burst through the pages and come to life at any moment. 

Then again, Gerard wasn’t sure that the comic he was working on would ever go anywhere. No matter how many hours he spent working at the local comic book shop, or how many overly long fan letters he sent to his favorite writers, or how many times his little brother asked for just one peek of what he was working on, Gerard was still fifteen. It wasn’t like anyone was ever going to publish his work. 

Someday, Gerard would be a hero, but today, he was just a boy. 

Gerard’s life was simple. During the week, he went to Belleville High School, a hellish place for a kid who couldn’t swim, couldn’t dance, and didn’t know karate. Most of the time, he dragged himself from class to class. He sat in the back of the room, hardly learning anything as he tried his best not to fall asleep during lectures. As for his fellow students, he had a few friends, a few more enemies, and a lot of people that he didn’t know and didn’t want to know. He never went to football games or pep rallies, and he longed for the day when he could finally be free of cafeteria food and math homework. 

After school, he always came straight home and retreated into the basement. Most days, he would work on his comic. Sometimes, he would dye his hair or experiment with his mother’s makeup. He’d turn his music up loud, and he would stay there for hours on end. Sometimes, he forgot to eat, even after his mother had told him dozens of times that dinner was ready. Other times, he forgot to sleep, and he’d struggle to keep his eyes open the next day at school. He never regretted it though. He was proud of the progress that he had made on his comic, and he knew that it was all because of the time that he had spent in the basement, perfecting his art. 

He spent his weekends in the comic book shop. He’d practically grown up there, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when the owner hired him to run the cashier and make sure that all of the comics were in their right places. When Mikey wasn’t busy hanging out with his friends, Gerard would drag him along, and he’d share some of his old favorites and new finds with his younger brother. Sometimes, they played Dungeons and Dragons together. Gerard always insisted on being the Dungeon Master, much to Mikey’s chagrin. 

Gerard’s life wasn’t perfect, but he got by. He rarely thought about what the future could hold, and when he did, he never thought beyond his high school graduation. For Gerard, the world consisted of school, the basement, and the comic book shop, and for now, that was enough. 

That was how Gerard found himself in the basement, furiously writing a comic book, on what would turn out to be one of the strangest days of his life so far. He drew panel after panel, trying his best to ignore what was happening upstairs. Mikey had invited his friend Geoff over, and the two of them were playing video games, screaming at the top of their lungs every time they made it to the next level. Gerard tried his best to focus on his work, but it was impossible when Mikey and Geoff were making so much noise, so he decided to give them a taste of their own medicine. 

Gerard searched through his CD collection, eventually selecting Gish, one of his favorite albums. He stuck the album in the CD player, and he turned the volume up as loud as it would go. Then, he went back to work. As Billy Corgan’s voice drowned out all of the noise coming from upstairs, Gerard wrote page after page. His mind was racing, his hands were cramping, and his ears hurt, but it was worth it. 

All of a sudden, Gerard heard a strange noise. He dropped his pencil and turned toward the source of noise, and he saw a figure standing at the top of the staircase leading to the basement. It was just his dad, presumably calling him for dinner or coming to complain about the noise. Gerard ignored him, but as the figure came closer, he realized that he was mistaken. Gerard’s father wouldn’t be caught dead in that jacket. 

Finally, Gerard got a good view of the mysterious man. He appeared to be around forty, and he had shoulder length brown hair and a wispy mustache. He was wearing a plaid jacket over a T-shirt and cargo pants. He looked apprehensive, scared even, as he descended the staircase. It was the face that tipped Gerard off though. It was like looking into a mirror. 

Gerard reached for the CD player and turned the volume down. He was about to ask the man who he was and what the hell he was doing in his house, but the mysterious man spoke first. 

“Aw, fuck,” he muttered. “I think I’m in the wrong year.” 

Now, Gerard was even more confused. “Who are you?” he asked. 

“That’s not important. I’m not supposed to be here anyways,” the mysterious man answered dismissively before he started talking to himself again. “Why didn’t the watch work? I swore I set it for the right year before I left…”

“Do you need any help?” Gerard asked. 

“No, I’m alright. I’ll have this all sorted out soon, and then I’ll be on my way,” the mysterious man said as he tinkered with his wristwatch. “Wait a second. Maybe I can salvage the situation.” He paused and then looked straight at Gerard. “You don’t know who Frank is, do you?” 

Gerard thought about it for a second and then shook his head. “Never mind,” the mysterious man said. “I should get going anyways.”

Gerard had a million questions, but he didn’t ask any of them. Even if he had, the mysterious man wouldn’t have answered them, so he didn’t see the point. Instead, he returned to his comic book while the mysterious man pressed a few more buttons on his watch. Then, Gerard watched him go back up the staircase. He swore that he saw him vanish into thin air before he reached the top. 

The basement door opened again a few minutes later, and this time it really was Gerard’s dad, telling him that dinner was ready. He reluctantly went upstairs, and as he ascended the staircase, he looked around for the mysterious man. However, Gerard couldn’t find him anywhere, and as dinner went on, with Geoff and Mikey excitedly talking about some event happening at the middle school, he became increasingly convinced that he had made it all up. Maybe it was a weird dream, or maybe his parents were right and he was spending too much time on his comic. He was sure that the mysterious man, with his sudden disappearance and his strangely familiar face, wasn’t real though. It just wasn’t possible. 

By the end of the week, Gerard had stopped thinking too hard about the mysterious man’s visit. He had bigger problems on his hands, like getting his driver’s permit, keeping his job at the comic book shop, and not failing his classes. He never told a soul about what had happened, not his parents, not his friends, not even his beloved little brother. Gerard never completely forgot about the mysterious man though, and sometimes, when the teacher’s lecture was flying far over his head, he would find himself replaying the incident in his head. He knew that it hadn’t really happened, but it felt so real. 

The years went by, and Gerard grew up. He finished high school, and he got accepted to an art school in New York City. After graduation, he got a job at Cartoon Network. His family could not have been more proud of him. He thought that he was leaving his childhood behind and finally making something of himself, but he should have known right from the start you can’t predict the end. 

“You don’t know who Frank is, do you?” the mysterious man had said, and Gerard sometimes found himself thinking back to those words in the years that followed his visit. Who was this Frank, and why was he so important? Gerard wished that he had an answer. At his high school graduation, he found himself flipping through the program, subconsciously searching for someone named Frank. In college, he took a class with Professor Frank, and although he liked Principles of Cartooning, he was pretty sure that the mysterious man wasn’t talking about his art professor. Even Gerard’s dating preferences soon became linguistic: there was Freya, Frankie, Francis, Fredrick, but never Frank. 

“You clearly have a type,” Mikey remarked when Gerard brought his latest girlfriend, Françoise, home to meet his family. 

“No, I don’t,” Gerard insisted. “It’s just a coincidence.” 

In the back of his head, he knew that wasn’t quite true. He refused to admit that he was still thinking about a weird dream that he’d had when he was fifteen, that he was letting it have this much power over him. He told himself that he had to let it go. 

Gerard and Françoise broke up, and two weeks later, the Twin Towers fell. Gerard watched the broken city sky from his cubicle, and he emerged from the tragedy with a new sort of creativity. He put all of the energy that he had once thrown into writing comic books into writing songs, and he took out the guitar that his grandmother had bought him out of the closet for the first time in years. He wondered what the mysterious man and the even more mysterious Frank would think if they could see him now. 

Gerard spent almost ten years looking for Frank. In all that time, he never thought that Frank might find him first.


	2. New Jersey 2001

Gerard’s first mistake was telling Geoff Rickly that he had started a band. Geoff had become quite successful over the last few years - Thursday had two albums and a record deal - so maybe Gerard should have known better, but when they met up for coffee one morning, he off-handedly mentioned his new rock band, not expecting anything to come of it. 

“That’s amazing!” Geoff exclaimed. “Wait a second, I’ve got a great idea. You should play a show sometime. It could be in my basement. I’ll spread the word that you’re playing, and I bet lots of people will come just to see you. It’s going to be so much fun.” 

“Geoff, I don’t know about this,” Gerard said. 

“What’s the problem?” 

“We’ve only written, like, three songs.” 

“So? You can play those three songs. It’ll be great.” 

“We don’t have a bassist.” 

“You can play without a bassist.” 

“This really isn’t a good idea,” Gerard said. “Everyone’s going to hate us.” 

“Come on, Gerard. If you’re going to be a real band, you’ll have to play at some point, right?” Geoff said. 

He had a point. Gerard stared into the bottom of his now empty coffee cup and then said, “I guess so, but we need to practice more first.” 

“Will you be ready by next Friday?” Geoff asked. 

“Can we wait until the Friday after that at least?” Gerard said, trying his best to delay the inevitable. 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Geoff said. “I can’t wait to hear you guys. I can already tell that you’re going to change the world...or at the very least, you’ll put on a really good show in my basement.” 

Gerard laughed. “Thanks, Geoff,” he said. 

“So who else is in your band?” 

“Just Ray and Matt.” 

“That’s so cool. I always thought that Ray was a really good guitarist.” 

“That’s why I asked him to join,” Gerard said. He was proud of his little group, although he was still trying to figure out how exactly they would put on a live show without a bassist. 

“What’s your band called anyways?” Geoff asked. 

“I don’t know,” Gerard said. “We haven’t thought about that yet.” 

“Oh okay,” Geoff said. 

“Enough about me,” Gerard said. “Tell me about Thursday. You guys are signed to Victory now, right?” He’d heard the news from Mikey, who, unlike Gerard, actually paid some attention to the local music scene. 

Geoff groaned. “Don’t get me started,” he said. He went on a long rant about his new record label, and Gerard tried his best to listen, but his mind was wandering again. He had some new ideas for songs, and he decided that he would call Matt and Ray after he got home. They needed more songs, they needed a bassist, but most of all, they desperately needed to practice before they stepped onstage for the first time. 

Gerard’s second mistake was getting drunk out of his mind right before the show started. While Ray and Matt set up their equipment, Gerard tried his best to calm his nerves. It was too late to back out now, to tell his bandmates and his friends that he just couldn’t do it, so he drowned his sorrows, his fear, and his pain, until he couldn’t feel a thing. When Ray came back, he asked Gerard if he was okay. 

“I’m fine,” he said, but the words came out slurred. “Let’s go. Let’s play the damn show already.” 

Ray and Matt exchanged a glance, unsure if they should go on, but Geoff was already at the microphone, introducing the band. “And now, get ready for...I Don’t Know, We Haven’t Thought About That Yet!” 

“Does he actually think that’s our band name?” Matt whispered to his band mates. 

“It’s what he put on the posters that he hung up around town,” Ray said. “We really need a better name if we’re going to keep doing this.” 

Nevertheless, the three band members walked onstage as the crowd cheered. Gerard closed his eyes, pretending that all of the people in front of him weren’t there. In his mind, he was alone. There were no shows, no speakers, no sweaty, crowded basements, no people who knew people who were flying straight. There was nothing but the world inside Gerard’s head. He took a deep breath, and when he heard Matt pounding on the drums and the roar of Ray’s guitar, he gripped the microphone, opened his mouth, and sang. 

He poured everything he had into that song. He hit every high and every low. He screamed and cursed, but he knew when to pull back too, to make the crowd listen a little bit closer. When the guitar solo kicked in, he awkwardly attempted to dance. He couldn’t care less what anyone thought of him. He was lost in the music. 

As the song came to an end, he struck a violent pose, and the crowd burst into applause. It wasn’t the polite applause that he sometimes heard at local shows either. It was genuine, enthusiastic, and thunderingly loud. Gerard smiled: this was why he had started a band. This was how he would make a difference in this twisted, ugly, mixed-up world. 

Gerard’s third mistake was looking out into the crowd. It was smaller than he had thought, and he recognized almost every face. There was Mikey, of course, skipping class to come to his brother’s show. Ray’s brothers were there too, and so was Matt’s family. Geoff had talked his bandmates and some of his friends into coming, and there were a few people that Gerard had worked with at Cartoon Network. It wasn’t a bad turnout for a basement show, but that didn’t change the fact that nobody had come to see Gerard, Ray, and Matt except for their friends and relatives. 

There was one exception. There was a man in his early twenties with dyed black hair and more tattoos than Gerard could count standing near the stage. He was jumping around like crazy, shoving past all of the taller people in front him to get a better view of the band. Gerard had no idea who he was, but he wished he did, if only because he was one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen. He locked eyes with the tattooed man for just a moment, and he thought that his heart might explode. Maybe getting a glimpse of all the people who had come to his show wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

“Hey Gerard, maybe we should move on to the next song?” Ray said.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Gerard said as he tore his eyes away from the cute guy in the crowd. “This next one is called...wait, what did we decide to call this one?” 

“Knives/Sorrow, I think,” Ray said. 

“I thought it was Bring More Knives,” Matt chimed in. 

“Whatever,” Gerard said. “We don’t have a name for this song yet, but you guys will fucking love it.” 

Ray played the first few chords of the song, whatever it was called, and the show went on. Gerard sang and screamed his heart out, and when it all became too much, he focused on the tattooed man. He was fascinated by how someone so beautiful could exist in this world. He didn't think it was possible, and yet here he was, jumping to the beat of the music. By the time Gerard got to the last chorus, the tattooed man was singing his words back to him. Gerard smiled, and he wished that the moment could last forever. 

They played the rest of the set, and after it was all over, when they were packing up their equipment, Ray said to the rest of the band, “You know, I was a little worried at first, but that went really well.” 

“It really did, but the night is still young,” Matt said. “I heard there’s a party at Audrey’s house. Ray, Gerard, are you coming?” 

Gerard shook his head. The alcohol was starting to wear off, and his head was pounding. Right now, he just wanted to go home and crash on the couch. 

“Let’s just call it a night,” Ray said. 

“Suit yourself,” Matt said. He walked away, and while Ray packed up his guitar, Gerard wandered around the basement. It was almost empty now, and no matter how hard he looked, the tattooed man was nowhere to be found. He had probably left with everyone else after the show was over. However, Gerard did run into Geoff again. 

“Gerard!” Geoff exclaimed. “You killed it out there!” 

“Thanks,” he said. 

“Your songs were great, and I had no idea that you could sing like that,” Geoff said. “I talked to Tom, and he said the exact same thing. You guys are incredible.”

“Thank you, Geoff,” Gerard said, not quite knowing how to respond to all of this praise. 

“You’re welcome,” Geoff said. “I should have promoted the show better though. I totally would have gotten more people to come if Audrey Metzler wasn’t throwing a party on the same night…” 

All of a sudden, Gerard asked the question that he had wanted to ask all night. “I saw there was this guy with dyed black hair and a whole bunch of tattoos in the crowd. Who was he?” 

“Oh, that’s just the guy from Pencey Prep,” Geoff said. 

“Pencey Prep?” Gerard repeated. He’d heard that name before. 

“Yeah, his name is Frank Oreo or something like that?” Geoff said. “No wait, that doesn’t sound right. Frank Lero? I don’t know. It’s definitely Frank Something.” 

Gerard wanted to say something, but then Geoff kept right on talking. 

“I’ve seen him at basement shows sometimes. I didn’t invite him or anything. He probably just saw the posters that I put up and wanted to check out your music.” Geoff paused and then asked, “Why did you want to know?” 

“No reason,” Gerard said. 

“Okay,” Geoff said. “Do you guys want to play here again next week? I’d love to have you back.” 

Gerard thought about it for a moment. If there was any chance that he might see Frank again, then he knew that he had to come back. “Yeah, that would be great,” he told Geoff. 

“Awesome,” Geoff said. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Gerard walked upstairs, and as he headed home, he thought back to that weird dream that he’d had as a teenager. It was almost a decade ago now, but he still remembered it all like it had happened yesterday. Now he knew who Frank was, and he smiled every time he thought about him standing in the crowd, desperately trying to get just a little bit closer to the band. Maybe the fact that he shared a name with the guy that the mysterious man had mentioned was just a strange coincidence, but he liked to think that it was something more than that. 

When Gerard got home, his head was throbbing, but his mind was moving at the speed of light. Mostly, he regretted not getting a chance to actually talk to Frank. Maybe he would have some answers. Maybe he was friends with the mysterious man, and he could give Gerard some sort of explanation. 

Even if Frank didn’t know anything about Gerard’s dream, he still wanted to know more. Geoff hadn’t told him much, but what he had said was intriguing. Frank was probably busy with his own band, but he had still taken the time to come to Geoff Rickly’s basement and see a brand new artist that nobody had ever heard of. Already, Gerard loved that about him. 

As he stared up at the ceiling, he promised himself that this would be more than just another water-cooler romance. Next time he saw Frank, he’d strike up a conversation. It couldn’t be that hard, right?

Gerard closed his eyes, and the last thing he saw before he fell asleep was Frank’s face. He may have made a few mistakes that night, but at least something good had come from them.


	3. New Jersey 2001

Gerard didn’t keep his promise. Frank came to the very next show, and Gerard spotted him in the crowd right away, but he still didn’t talk to him, too scared of what he might think of him if he did. When he got home, he told himself that he’d do it at the next concert. He just needed a little bit more time. 

Then, Frank showed up at their third show. Other faces came and went, but his was always there. Soon, Frank knew Gerard’s lyrics better than he did, and he could recognize any one of the band’s songs from the very first note, and he still never missed a show. 

Once, Gerard booked a concert on the other end of the state, just to see if Frank would show up. Every face in the crowd was new. Not even Mikey could come to this one, and yet, Frank was there, singing Gerard’s words right back to him. Gerard admired his dedication, and he told himself that he’d find him after the show, but when he tried to look for Frank, he was gone. 

In the meantime, Gerard’s band finally got a name. He asked Mikey if he had any ideas, and the very next day, he came back with the perfect name: My Chemical Romance. If only he could solve the bassist problem while he was at it. 

It wasn’t until their sixth show that Gerard finally worked up the nerve to talk to Frank. My Chemical Romance was back in Geoff’s basement, playing for his Halloween party. They still didn’t have a bassist, and they’d only added a handful of songs to their set since their first concert, but Gerard had managed to loosen up on stage. Performing felt more natural to him now, and he had gotten into a rhythm of singing, screaming, bantering, and stealing glances at Frank. After the show was over, he ran into the crowd, and he walked up to Frank just as he was about to leave. 

He didn’t know what to say. He had envisioned this moment a million times in his head. He’d even drawn it in his sketchbook, but somehow, he was still at a loss for words. “H-hey,” Gerard said as Frank looked up at him expectantly. “You’re Frank Lero, right?” 

Frank laughed hysterically. “Frank Lero?” he said. “Who told you that?” 

“Geoff did,” Gerard admitted, rather embarrassed by his mistake. This was his first impression, and already, he’d blown it. 

“Geoff’s a great guy, but he can’t pronounce my last name to save his life. It’s Frank Iero, not Frank Lero. I know it has too many vowels, but he could at least try.” Frank paused and then asked, “Did you want to talk to me about something?” 

“Yeah, yeah I did.” Gerard cleared his throat and then told Frank what he had wanted to tell him ever since they’d first seen each other. “I’ve seen you at every one of our shows so far, and I just wanted to say thank you. It means a lot to Ray, Matt, and me.” 

“It’s my pleasure, man,” Frank said. “My Chemical Romance is my favorite band.” 

“Wait, really?” Gerard said. 

“Yeah, you guys are just the coolest.” Frank paused and asked, “Do you want to keep talking outside? Geoff’s probably going to come and kick us out of here pretty soon anyways.” 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Gerard said. He zipped up his leather jacket, and the two of them started wandering down 4th Street. There were a few kids in costumes still out trick-or-treating, but at this time of night, it was mostly teenagers, which definitely scared him. He’d left a bucket of candy out in front of his house, and he was sure that they’d stolen it by now. Halloween was supposed to be a fun holiday. He wasn’t sure why the older kids had to kill the party for everyone else. 

“So how did you get the idea to start a band?” Frank asked. 

“It’s kind of a long story,” Gerard said, but he told Frank everything. He told him about his art and his old job at Cartoon Network, and about how when he’d watched the Twin Towers fall, something clicked into place, and he knew that he wanted to be a part of something bigger than himself. He told him about calling up Matt and Ray over the next few weeks, and how they had rehearsed like crazy before their first show. It was insane how much Gerard’s life had changed in just a few short weeks. Before the attacks, he was just a failed cartoonist, and now, he was talking to a hot guy who had just said that My Chemical Romance was his favorite band. For Gerard, it was like there was something beautiful growing up through the burning embers of the World Trade Center and the ashes of the life that he’d left behind. 

“Is all of that what Skylines and Turnstiles is about?” Frank asked. 

Gerard nodded. “I get the feeling that 9/11’s going to be the big event of our generation,” he said. “It’s like Pearl Harbor or the Kennedy assassination. Everyone remembers where they were when it happened.” 

“I was in psych class,” Frank said. “My professor cancelled her lecture, and we just watched the news. It was all so surreal.” 

“See what I mean?” Gerard said. He paused when he actually processed what Frank had said. “You’re still in school?” 

“Yeah, I go to Rutgers,” Frank said. 

“And you still find time to go to all of our shows?” Gerard said. “That’s impressive.” 

Frank shrugged. “Pencey Prep takes up more of my time than school does.” 

“That’s your band, right?” 

“Yeah. I’m the lead vocalist, and I play the guitar.” 

“That’s better than me,” Gerard said with a chuckle. “I can’t sing and play the guitar at the same time to save my life.” 

“It does take some practice,” Frank admitted. 

“So, let me get this all straight,” Gerard said. “You’re in college, you’re in a band, and you _still_ find time to come to every My Chemical Romance concert?” 

“As I said, you’re my favorite band.” 

“How do you get your homework done? I had art projects due every week when I was in college…” 

“I usually get it done in between class and band practice,” Frank said. “Where did you go to school?” 

“The School of Visual Arts,” Gerard said. “I graduated two years ago.” 

“So you’re an artist,” Frank said. 

“I guess you could say that,” Gerard said. 

“You’re a man of many talents, Gerard,” Frank said. 

“Why thank you,” Gerard said as he looked straight at Frank. He was simply bewitching in the moonlight, like a work of art. “I have to say, I’ve been really admiring your tattoos,” Gerard said. “They look great.” 

“Thanks,” Frank said. “I’d like to get some more, but I also really love the ones I have.” 

“Can you tell me a little bit about them?” Gerard said. “If you don’t mind, of course. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t…” 

“No, it’s okay,” Frank interrupted. “The first tattoo I ever got was when I turned eighteen. You can’t see it right now, but there’s a Jack-O-Lantern in the middle of my back. I got it because my birthday is on Halloween.” 

“That’s the coolest thing ever.” All of a sudden, Gerard remembered what day it was. “Also, happy birthday!” 

“Thanks,” Frank said. 

It was Frank’s special day. He could have done anything he wanted to on his birthday, and yet, he had decided to spend it with him. Gerard was flattered. “How has your day been so far?” he asked. 

“It’s been great.” Frank smiled and then added, “No actually, it was the best day ever. My class got cancelled, I went to three Halloween parties, I ate a ton of candy, I went to your concert, and now, I’m talking to you.” By the time he finished talking, Frank was practically bouncing up and down. 

“Did you get any good presents?” Gerard asked. 

Frank thought about it and then said, “I mean, my mom got me a new guitar, which is cool, but you know what I really want for my birthday?” 

“What?” 

“A My Chemical Romance T-shirt.” 

Gerard laughed. “Frank, we can’t make T-shirts. We’re not popular enough. Nobody would buy them but you.” 

“That’s not true,” Frank said. “I bet lots of people would buy them.” 

“Okay, fine,” Gerard said. “Even if lots of people would buy My Chem merch, then who would sell it?” 

“I would,” Frank said. 

“We don’t have the money to pay you,” Gerard said. He had to be practical, even though he loved the idea of working with Frank and having a night like this after every show. 

“I don’t care,” Frank said. “I’ll do it for free. I love you guys, and I want you to be successful.” 

“But you have your own band.” 

“So? I’ll make time to sell T-shirts for you too.” 

Gerard thought about it for a minute. “Okay Frank, you’ve got your birthday wish,” he finally said. “We’ll have to design the shirts first though. Maybe we could do that together?” 

“That sounds perfect,” Frank said. “I can give you my phone number, and you can just give me a call sometime.” 

“Sounds great,” Gerard said, unable to believe that this was really happening as Frank took out a pen and a slip of paper. 

Frank wrote something on the paper, handed it to Gerard, and then said, “I should probably head home before too much longer, but it was really nice talking with you. I hope we can do this again sometime.” 

“Yeah, me too,” Gerard said. 

“Cool, and don’t forget to call me about the T-shirts,” Frank said as he walked away. “See you soon!” 

“See you,” Gerard said. 

After Frank left, he started walking home, his heart beating fast and his head replaying the last few hours over and over. He couldn’t believe how well that had gone. Not only was Frank drop-dead gorgeous, but he was one of the nicest people that Gerard had ever met, and now, they would get to see each other all the time. He really could not believe his luck. 

When he got home, he saw that the teenagers in his neighborhood had indeed stolen his bucket of Halloween candy, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He went inside and he took the paper that Frank had given him out of the pocket of his leather jacket. As he read it, he smiled, thinking of his conversation with Frank. It didn’t matter to him anymore whether or not Frank had any connection with the mysterious man from his dream. He just couldn’t wait until the two of them could see each other again. 

_Gerard,_

_So glad that we got to chat. I’ve decided that you’re the second coolest motherfucker on this planet, other than me, of course. Can’t wait to design some T-shirts with you._

_973-555-4242_

_XO Frank Iero_


	4. New Jersey 2001

“Hey Gerard, I listened to your CD,” Mikey said. The Way brothers were having dinner at their parents’ house, and somehow, the conversation had shifted to My Chemical Romance, much to Gerard’s chagrin. 

“So?” Gerard said. “What did you think?” 

Mikey took a while to answer, and while Gerard waited for him to say something, he became more and more convinced that his brother had hated it. Maybe it was to be expected: Gerard, Ray, and Matt had recorded it in Matt’s attic over the course of a few afternoons. The sound quality wasn’t great, especially in comparison to most of the bands Mikey listened to, and some of the songs were still a little rough around the edges. Maybe giving those demos to everyone he knew wasn’t a good idea after all. 

“I loved it,” Mikey said. “Between the drumming, the guitars, and your singing, it was just incredible. Are you ever going to record more songs?” 

“I don’t know,” he said. “I really think there’s something missing from our sound right now. It’s probably because we don’t have a bassist yet.” 

It was December already. All of the leaves had fallen to the ground, the first frost had come and gone, and My Chemical Romance still didn’t have a bass player. They’d held auditions a few times, but they hadn’t found anyone who clicked with the rest of the band yet. Sometimes, Gerard worried that his band would die before it had really gotten started just because they couldn’t find a bassist. 

“I’ll do it,” Mikey suddenly volunteered. 

“Do you even know how to play the bass?” Gerard asked. 

“Kind of,” Mikey said as he adjusted his glasses. He didn’t know how to play at all - in fact, he had only ever touched a bass guitar once before - but Gerard didn’t need to know that. 

Gerard shrugged. “I mean, I’ll talk to Ray and Matt, but that’s probably good enough,” he said. “They both know you already, and we are kind of desperate right now.”

“Thanks, Gee,” Mikey said, smiling. “I really can’t wait to be a part of My Chemical Romance. You guys are such a great band.” 

“Don’t get too excited yet,” Gerard said. “We’re probably just going to have you come to our next practice, and then we’ll decide whether this is going to work or not. Also, you’re going to have to get better at playing the bass.” 

“I can do that,” Mikey said. 

“Great,” Gerard said. “I’ll see you at band practice then.” 

All of a sudden, Gerard and Mikey’s mom jumped into the conversation. “Mikey, it’s great that you want to be in Gerard’s band, but school comes first.” 

“Oh yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that,” Mikey said. 

“What is it, Mikey?” his mother asked. 

Mikey went quiet and put on his best poker face. After a few minutes, he finally said, “I dropped out of college.” 

There was an awkward silence at the dinner table. Both of Gerard’s parents looked furious, like they might snap at any moment, while Mikey just looked like he wanted to disappear. Gerard sat quietly and ate his dinner, glad that it wasn’t him that they were mad at this time. 

“You dropped out?!” Gerard’s dad screamed. “We invested so much money and time into our education, and this is how you repay us?” 

“Listen, it’s not that big of a deal,” Mikey said. “I was failing most of my classes anyways, and now I can pick up some more shifts at Barnes and Noble…” 

“Do you want to work at Barnes and Noble forever?” Gerard’s dad shouted. “Because if you want to be stuck in a minimum wage job for the rest of your life, then keep doing what you’re doing!” 

“Can I be excused?” Gerard asked, but when nobody answered, he got up and left. As his parents continued to lecture Mikey about why he shouldn’t have dropped out of college, as if anyone could do anything about it now, he grabbed his sketchbook and went down to the basement. When he got there, he put on a pair of headphones to block out the noise, and he opened up his sketchbook to the latest draft of T-shirt designs. 

After meeting every week for over a month, Frank and Gerard were almost done with the My Chemical Romance T-shirts. All that was left was for Gerard to draw the final version, and then Frank would get them printed. As it turned out, the two of them worked great together. They would talk for hours, bouncing ideas off of each other, thinking of clever puns and cool images, and gushing over how great the shirts would look when they were done.

Sometimes, they got distracted. One week, they watched a horror movie marathon instead of working on the T-shirts. Another week, they went on a walk through a cemetery. “It’s so peaceful here,” Gerard said that day. 

“You’re the only other person I’ve met who thinks that,” Frank said. “Everyone else thinks it’s creepy.”

“Why would it be? Everyone dies eventually.” 

“Sure, but it’s still sad,” Frank said. “I mean, if you just dropped dead right now, I’d be devastated.” 

Gerard didn’t say it then, but he felt the exact same way about Frank. Seeing him was always the highlight of his week. In his short life, he’d never felt so appreciated, so understood. Already, he didn’t know what he would do without him. 

He turned back to his sketchbook, and he carefully drew the designs that he and Frank had agreed on. There was a simple one with just the name of the band on it, a few more with cryptic slogans, and a few more with complicated drawings of knives, vampires, and Ferris wheels on fire. He was still pretty sure that they’d lose money on these T-shirts, but he’d promised Frank that he would make this happen. He would make his birthday wish come true, no matter what it took. 

After he was done, he called Frank. “I finished drawing the T-shirt designs,” he told him. 

“That’s great,” Frank said. “Maybe you could give them to me at your next concert?”

“I don’t know when that’s going to be,” Gerard said. 

“Why not?” Frank asked. 

“Mikey joined the band, and we have to teach him how to play the bass before we can do any more shows.” 

“Why did you ask him to join the band if he doesn’t actually know how to play?” 

“I didn’t ask him. He volunteered,” Gerard explained. “Besides, he’s kind of in a rough spot right now, and we really need a bassist, so I didn’t want to say no. It’s okay. I think he’ll pick up the bass pretty quickly.” 

“It’s great that you have a bass player now,” Frank said. “You guys are going to be even better than you already are, even if I’ll miss seeing you for a little while.” 

“We’ll miss playing for you, Frank,” Gerard said. “Anyways, maybe I’ll just drop the designs off at your house or something.” 

“Yeah, that sounds great,” Frank said. “See you soon.” 

Frank hung up, and Gerard sat in the basement for a while. Mikey and his parents were still fighting, but for Gerard, there was some hope. He and Frank were making some neat T-shirts, My Chemical Romance had a bassist now, and it really felt like the band was going somewhere. For once, everything felt like it was going right. 

The next practice came sooner than expected. Ray and Matt both agreed to let Mikey come, but they gave Gerard the task of teaching him how to play the bass. The two brothers holed up in Matt’s attic for a while, and Gerard gave Mikey something that could charitably be called a bass lesson. 

“So you hold the bass like this,” Gerard said. He took Mikey’s instrument, slouching as he held it horizontally against his body. 

“That doesn’t look right, Gerard,” Mikey said. 

“Shut up, I’m trying to teach you,” Gerard said. “Then...uh...I think this one’s the B string?” He plucked the string and then handed the bass back to Mikey. “Here, you can try.” 

Mikey plucked a couple of strings and then carefully passed the bass back to Gerard. “When am I going to actually get to play something?” he asked. 

“Here, I’ll teach you the bass line for Skylines and Turnstiles. So you start here…” Gerard strummed on the A string for a few beats, pressing his fingers to the third fret. “Then you move to the fifth fret, and then you shift down to the seventh, and then you go back to the third. Why don’t you try?” 

Mikey took the bass, and he tried to play. For his first try, it wasn’t bad, but he didn’t shift properly and ended up on the wrong pitch. “Come on, Mikey,” Gerard said. “I said the seventh fret, not the sixth.” 

“Sorry, Gerard,” Mikey said. “I’m still learning.” 

“You’d better learn fast. I need to be at Frank’s house in an hour.” 

“Is it just me, or have you been hanging out with Frank a lot lately?” 

“We’re working on merch together.”

“Working on merch? Is that what you’re calling it?” 

“Shut up, Mikey!” Gerard exclaimed. “It’s...it’s not like that!” 

“I mean, he is your type…” 

“For the last time, I don’t have a type.” 

“Yes, you do,” Mikey said. “You only ever date people whose names start with F.” 

“It’s just a coincidence,” Gerard insisted. “Let’s get back to work. Try playing the intro to Skylines and Turnstiles again.” 

Mikey played it again, and this time, he got it right. “How was that?” he asked. 

“That was pretty good,” Gerard said as he held the bass again. “So now you play on the fifth fret for a while, and then you shift up to the first, and you do this.” He alternated between two notes for a few bars, and then he handed the bass to Mikey. “It’s your turn now.” 

Mikey played it well, but he was under tempo. When Gerard tried to tell him that, he complained, “You never told me how fast I was supposed to go.” 

“You’ve been to our shows. You’ve heard this song before. You should know how fast to go.” 

“You’re kind of useless as a bass teacher, you know.” 

“Do you want my help or not?” Gerard asked. When Mikey didn’t respond, he stormed out of Matt’s attic and headed to Frank’s house. 

As for Mikey, he got a better bass lesson from Ray at their next band practice, and he went home and practiced hard until he was good enough to play with the rest of the band. It didn’t take long for him to pick up the bass. That same weekend, he played his first show with My Chemical Romance. 

Gerard was almost at Frank’s house. He knew he was early, but Frank probably wouldn’t mind. As he stepped onto his driveway, he thought about what Mikey had said. In a way, his brother was right. Sometimes, he thought that he and Frank would be better off as lovers. Frank was easily the most beautiful person he’d ever met, inside and out, but he wasn’t sure that he felt the same way, and he was too afraid to ask. 

All of a sudden, Frank’s car swerved into the driveway. He rolled down the windows and shouted, “Gerard! You’re just in time!” 

“In time for what?” Gerard asked. 

“I just picked up the T-shirts!” Frank exclaimed. He opened the car doors, jumped out, and sprinted to the trunk, where there were several huge stacks of My Chemical Romance T-shirts. “Don’t they look awesome?” 

“They do look nice,” Gerard said. “Do you need any help carrying them?” 

“Yeah, that would be great,” Frank said. 

They each took an armful of T-shirts and brought them into the house, where they were greeted by Frank’s dogs. Gerard smiled as he watched Frank play with each and every one, desperately trying not to get dog slobber on the shirts. 

Eventually, the dogs left, and Frank ran off to try one of the T-shirts on. He came back a few minutes later wearing a simple black T-shirt with the words “My Chemical Romance” on it. Gerard didn’t think it was possible for Frank to be even more attractive than he already was, but this proved him wrong. In that shirt, he was irresistible. 

“How do I look?” Frank asked. 

“You look amazing,” Gerard said. “Happy belated birthday, Frank.” 

“Thanks, Gerard,” Frank said. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you that I listened to your CD.” 

“So?” Gerard said. “What did you think?” 

“Okay, maybe I should clarify a little bit,” Frank said. “By ‘listened to your CD,’ I mean that I listened to it 42 times and memorized all the lyrics. It’s one of the best things I’ve ever heard.” 

“That seems like an exaggeration.” 

“I swear it’s not. Are you ever going to record more songs?” 

Frank looked so happy whenever he talked about My Chemical Romance, and Gerard knew that he would do anything to make him smile like that again. He looked straight at Frank and said, “Yeah, I think we will.”


	5. New Jersey 2002

To nobody’s surprise but Frank’s, My Chemical Romance lost money on the T-shirts. Frank sold a couple at their shows, and the band members’ parents and siblings bought a few, but it wasn’t enough to break even, let alone make a profit. They had fun making and selling them though, and before long, Frank was like a fifth member of the band. Gerard sang, Ray played the guitar, Mikey played the bass, Matt played the drums, and Frank did everything else, from booking shows and practice spaces for them to carrying their gear to selling their merch. 

The one thing that Frank couldn’t do was get them a record deal, but Mikey took care of that. He had worked at Eyeball Records for a while, and he somehow managed to convince his boss that MCR would be the next big thing. Eyeball signed them right away, and now, the only thing left to do was to record their first album. 

“Hey, that means we’re labelmates now!” Frank exclaimed when Gerard told him the good news. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Gerard said. He didn’t admit that the real reason he’d agreed to sign to Eyeball was because Pencey Prep was on that label too. 

Geoff had agreed to produce the album, but they had to wait to record until after the Thursday tour, so for now, My Chemical Romance was stuck in New Jersey, playing basement shows while they waited for their producer to come home. Gerard didn’t mind: he’d grown to like performing live. He sang and screamed and just went wild at every concert, and over time, he came to love the roar of the crowd instead of being afraid of it. 

Ray complained that he was playing to the merch table instead of blasting it to the back row, which was probably true. He always found himself stealing glances at Frank, but who could blame him? Not only was he the prettiest boy in the room, but he was also their biggest fan. If anyone deserved their own personal My Chemical Romance show, it was Frank. 

It wasn’t all fun and games though. Other than the band being practically bankrupt, their producer being on tour, and Gerard being way too afraid to tell Frank how he really felt about him, there was also the fact that Matt’s car was too small for all of their equipment. It always took the band members forever to stuff all of their instruments, amps, and unsold T-shirts in the car, and once they were done, there was barely enough room for Matt to squeeze himself into the driver’s seat. 

As Frank and Gerard packed up the merch table one day, Matt ran over to tell them that his car wouldn’t start. “I’m pretty sure it’s just because of the cold, but what are we going to do about all of our stuff?” he asked. 

“We could use Ray’s car,” Gerard suggested. 

“We’d have to make two trips,” Matt said. 

“You know, you guys could use Pencey Prep’s van,” Frank said. 

“Wait, really?” Gerard said. “You’d do that for us?”

“Yeah, it’s really no big deal,” Frank said. “My Chemical Romance is my favorite band.” He suddenly turned toward Gerard and smiled. “And it doesn’t hurt that they have a very handsome lead singer.” 

Gerard turned away, blushing. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Maybe Frank was just making a joke, but he wanted to think that he was serious, that he actually liked him. If that was true, then he couldn’t believe his luck. 

He didn’t have time to reply before Frank said, “Anyways, I’ll go get the van. I’ll be back soon.” 

Frank left the venue, Matt ran off to talk to one of his friends, and suddenly, Gerard was alone again. He paced around the room, wishing that he had the nerve to say something to Frank. He wanted to tell him how he felt as soon as he came back. He wanted action and decision, but at the same time, he was terrified of what Frank might think of him if he knew how many hours he had spent dreaming of his hazel eyes, his adorable smile, and his gorgeous tattoos. 

Frank came back with the van before too long, and the band loaded all of their equipment in there before driving off. They borrowed it for every show after that, and Frank was more than happy to lend it to them. Sometimes, an eagle-eyed concert goer would be mad that Pencey Prep wasn’t playing, but for the most part, the arrangement worked. 

“Thanks for letting us borrow the van,” Gerard said to Frank after one of their shows. “You really are the best.” 

“Yeah, no problem,” Frank said. “I’ll need it back when we go on tour though.” 

“You’re going on tour?” Gerard said. 

“Pencey Prep is playing some dates in the Midwest in April and May.” Gerard frowned, and Frank asked, “Is there something wrong?” 

“No, it’s nothing,” Gerard said. “It’s just...it’s just that I’m going to miss you a lot.” 

“I’ll miss you too,” Frank said. 

Thankfully, April was a long way away, or so Gerard thought. The hours and days and months seemed to fly by whenever he was around Frank, and the tour drew closer and closer. Soon, My Chemical Romance’s biggest fan left to go on tour with Pencey Prep. 

Frank promised that he would call, and he did, but Gerard’s life still felt empty without him. He would wake up every morning looking forward to seeing Frank, thinking that they might see a movie or read some comic books or play with his dogs. Then, he’d remember that Frank was on tour, and he would crash back into bed, feeling hopeless. He’d known that his friendship with Frank was something special, but he hadn’t known just how much he meant to him until he was gone. 

Working on I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love was something of a distraction, but even that wasn’t enough sometimes. Gerard, Matt, Ray, and Mikey all worked hard on perfecting the songs that would go on the album, and when Geoff finally came home from his tour in mid-May, they were ready to go. They only had two weeks to record the eleven songs that they had picked for the album, but they knew that they could do it. 

They started with “Honey, This Mirror Isn’t Big Enough For The Two of Us.” Geoff recorded them in his parents’ basement, and after Matt, Mikey, and Ray were all done, it was Gerard’s turn. He took a deep breath, wishing that Frank was there to comfort him, to wish him good luck. Then, he stepped up to the microphone, but just as he was about to open his mouth, there was a loud whirring sound. 

“Mom!” Geoff shouted as he ran upstairs. “I thought I told you we were recording today!” 

“You never told me that,” Geoff’s mom said as she unplugged the vacuum cleaner. 

As Geoff argued with his mother, Gerard took another deep breath. He had a few more minutes to get himself together. However, his mind kept drifting back to Frank. He wondered how he was doing out there, touring the country with his band. He wondered if Frank felt as lonely as he did. Life just wasn’t the same without him.

They ended up scrapping that recording anyways. Ray thought that it didn’t sound right, and everyone else agreed with him. “I think it’s something in the guitar part,” Ray said. “I’ll rewrite it later.” 

However, every time Gerard asked Ray about it, he said that he was still working on it. “We just need a fuller sound, and I’m trying to figure out how to do that with just one guitar,” Ray said. “I could overdub it, but then we would never be able to play this song live.”

That wasn’t an option. They’d played “Honey, This Mirror Isn’t Big Enough For The Two of Us” a few times at their concerts, and the fans loved it. They couldn’t just take it off of the setlist. There had to be another way. 

While Ray worked on rewriting the guitar part, the whole band kept on recording their other songs. By the end of the week, the album was starting to come together. However, there was one huge problem. 

It started with a toothache. Gerard woke up one morning, and there was a soreness in the back of his mouth. He thought it was nothing, so he left to go record the album, but the pain grew worse over the course of the day. However, he only realized that his toothache might pose a problem after he’d already started recording. 

“And if they get me, take this spike and…OW! I can’t do this. This really fucking hurts.” 

“Just give it one more try,” Geoff said, and he did, but it didn’t feel any better. 

The pills didn’t help. They numbed the pain, but he couldn’t get the sound he wanted. Meanwhile, his suffering only became worse as the days went by. After every recording session, he would go straight home and take as many pills as it took for the pain to go away. Then he would lie on the couch, hoping that Frank would call. 

He was more miserable than he’d been in years, even though he had no right to be. The band was doing well, and he told himself that he should be excited about it. They were recording an album, after all. They were creating a piece of art, but he just couldn’t appreciate it without their biggest fan. Without Frank, there just didn’t seem to be a point to it all. Why make an album if nobody was going to listen to it?


	6. New Jersey 2002

When they were about halfway done recording, Gerard got a phone call from Frank. He’d already gotten four calls that day: two of them were from telemarketers, and the third was from his credit card company, so he was glad to see Frank’s phone number on his caller ID and hear his voice on the other end of the line this time. “Hey Gerard,” Frank said. “How are you doing?” 

“I’m okay,” Gerard said. 

“You don’t sound okay,” Frank said. 

He wasn’t okay, not at all, but he didn’t want to admit that hearing from Frank was the best thing that had happened to him all day, so he changed the subject. “What city are you playing in today?” he asked. 

“Chicago,” Frank said. 

“I’ve never been there, but it sounds amazing.” 

“You’ve said that about every city we’ve been to.” 

“I just want to see the world. Is that too much to ask?” 

Frank groaned and said, “Chicago is so two years ago, and honestly, I don’t think there’s anywhere in the world that’s better than Jersey.” 

“Yeah, right.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“People call our state the Armpit of America for a reason.” 

“I like the dirtiness of it,” Frank said. “Besides, New Jersey can’t be that bad if you’re there.” 

Gerard smiled, and not for the first time, he wished that Frank could be there with him. “When are you coming home again?” he asked. 

“We’re playing in Chicago tonight, and then we’re driving back tomorrow to play a show in Newark on Wednesday,” Frank said. “Thank God this tour is going to be over soon. It’s been awful.” 

“What happened?” 

“We were thought that more people would come to our shows, but they didn’t, and now, I’ve taken a whole semester off of school just to lose money on this tour. Also, I think Tim and John are trying to kill each other.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know, really. I heard something about Tim smashing John’s bass, but that doesn’t seem like something he would do. Anyways, everyone’s taking sides, and I can’t stand to be in a room with any of my bandmates right now.” Frank paused and then asked, “Has that ever happened to you?” 

“No, not really,” Gerard said. He had never been more thankful that he got along with everyone in My Chemical Romance. They’d had their petty arguments over everything from which shows to book to what equipment to buy to which superhero was best, but at the end of the day, they were all still friends with each other. 

“You’re lucky, I guess. It must be nice, having such a close-knit band.” 

“Yeah, it is.” 

“How’s My Chemical Romance doing, by the way? I talked to Mikey yesterday, and he said that the album’s coming along well.” 

“Yeah, it’s coming along.” 

“You don’t sound super excited about it,” Frank said. “Come on, Gerard! You’re recording your first album! It’s going to be amazing!” Gerard laughed, but that just made his tooth hurt even more. He yelped in pain, so Frank asked, “Is everything okay over there?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Gerard said as he reached over to grab more painkillers. “I just have this really bad toothache, and it’s making it hard to sing.” 

“Maybe you could postpone the recording sessions?” Frank suggested. 

“We can’t. Geoff’s only in town for two weeks, and we have to record...ow, it hurts!” Gerard took a few more pills and then kept talking. “We have to record while he’s here.” 

“It really doesn’t seem like you’re doing too well,” Frank said. “Maybe you should go to the dentist or something.” 

“I’m fine,” Gerard insisted. “As I said, we need to record.” 

“Okay, Gee,” Frank said. “I’d give you a hug - you seem like you need one - but that’s a little hard to do through the phone, so I think it’s going to have to wait until I get back. Are you doing anything Wednesday night?” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“You should come to the Pencey Prep concert. It’s going to be a lot of fun, and we can chat in person after the show.” 

“Yeah, that sounds great,” Gerard said, smiling. 

“Cool. You know…” Frank kept talking, but Gerard couldn’t hear him with all of the voices yelling in the background. “My bandmates are fighting again,” Frank finally said. “We’ll talk soon. See you Wednesday!” 

“Yeah, see you then,” Gerard said before Frank hung up. As he crashed back onto the couch, he knew that Wednesday could not come fast enough for him. All he wanted was to see Frank again, bickering bandmates and aching teeth be damned. 

The days trickled by. Gerard and the rest of My Chemical Romance kept on recording, but Gerard’s toothache got even worse. Sometimes, it got so bad that he thought he was dying. He wondered if anyone would miss him if he did die. Maybe Frank would, but Gerard suspected that he would be the only one. 

Eventually, Wednesday came, and Gerard went to the Pencey Prep concert as promised. He stood in line, talked to a couple of other fans, bought another Pencey Prep T-shirt, and waited patiently for Frank to take the stage. He had waited for this moment ever since Frank had left: the opportunity to see him just one more time. 

The crowd was restless all through the opening act’s set, but Gerard wasn’t impressed. The bassist was playing out of time, the guitarist clearly didn’t know how to play more than three chords, but most importantly, Frank wasn’t there. Gerard considered sneaking backstage to see him, but he decided to wait until after the show was over. They would have all of the time in the world then. 

All of a sudden, Pencey Prep started playing. Frank looked beautiful as always, cradling his guitar as he walked across the stage. His hazel eyes met Gerard’s for just a moment, and when the music started, he took the microphone and gave it everything he had. 

There were waves of distorted guitars and beating drums, but above it all, there was Frank Iero. He was howling and screaming, and even after being on the road for almost two months, he was full of energy. He ran around the stage like he owned the place, and he jumped so high that Gerard wondered if he had somehow managed to defy the laws of gravity. He was on fire, and everyone knew it. 

The only thing Gerard wanted at that moment was to be up on stage with Frank. He imagined them standing there together, their microphones side by side. He imagined them singing along to the raging sounds of Frank’s guitar. He imagined the kind of music they might make together: something loud, theatrical, emotional. He imagined Frank coming close and kissing him, right there in front of everybody. He knew that it would never happen, but it was fun to fantasize. 

After the show was over, Gerard wandered around for a while, looking for Frank. He poked around backstage, but all he could find was audio equipment. He ran into a couple of Frank’s bandmates, but none of them seemed to know where their frontman could possibly be. 

Gerard was about to give up and go home when Frank ran over and tightly wrapped his arms around him, almost knocking him over in the process. “I’m so glad you came,” Frank said. “I missed you so much.” 

Gerard smiled and said, “I missed you too. You guys were amazing out there, by the way.” 

“Thanks,” Frank said as he finally let go of Gerard. “How’s everything going?” 

“The album’s coming along, but my tooth still hurts and Ray still hasn’t finished rewriting ‘Honey, This Mirror Isn’t Big Enough For The Two Of Us.’”

“Why does he need to rewrite it? That song’s great.” 

“We didn’t like how it sounded when we tried recording it.” 

“That happens sometimes.” 

“Yeah. Ray thinks he can fix it by rewriting the guitar part to give it a fuller sound, but he’s been working on it for over a week now, and he hasn’t gotten anywhere. We might end up having to leave it off the album.” 

“That would suck. That’s one of your best songs,” Frank said. “Then again, all of your songs are great.” 

“Thanks, Frank.” 

“It’s true.”

“So how was the tour?” 

“Could we maybe talk about this outside?” Frank whispered. “I don’t want my bandmates to hear.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Gerard said. 

Frank quickly packed up his guitar, and the two of them wandered around outside for a while. They chatted for hours, with Frank giving Gerard a play-by-play of the entire tour, and Gerard offering his witty commentary on the situation. They had both missed this over the last two months, just talking and laughing and being together, and now, they were desperate to make up for lost time. 

There was something looming on the horizon though. Neither of them knew it then, but the Newark show was the last time that Pencey Prep would ever play together.


	7. New Jersey 2002

Two days later, after his band was done recording, Gerard took a trip to his local comic book shop. He browsed through the new arrivals and talked to the owner for a while, and after all of that was over, he collapsed into his favorite reading chair with one of his favorite comics. He’d read it a hundred times before, but it never got old. Soon, he was lost in thought, completely unaware of everything that was going on around him. 

“I thought I might find you here,” Frank said, and Gerard snapped back into reality. He looked up from the comic book, and when he saw Frank standing right in front of him, he wondered how he hadn’t noticed him earlier. “You looked like you were really into that comic,” Frank said. “What were you reading?” 

“Sandman,” Gerard answered. “It’s one of my favorites.” 

“I’ve never read it,” Frank said. 

“I think you’d like it a lot.” Gerard paused and then asked, “Anyways, how are things going?” 

“I’m okay, given the circumstances.” 

“What happened?” 

“Pencey Prep broke up.” 

Frank tried his best not to sound too upset about it, but Gerard saw right through his act. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Frank said. “We all kind of knew it would happen eventually. I just didn’t think it would be over so soon.” 

“How did it happen?” 

“We all met up yesterday, and Neil said that he was leaving the band. Then, John quit too, and Shaun said that we couldn’t play without a guitarist and bassist, so it was better just to break up.” Frank sighed and then added, “I don’t know where to go from here. I started that band when I was seventeen, and it was such a huge part of my identity. I was always ‘the guy from Pencey Prep,’ and now, that’s all over.” 

“You could always join a new band,” Gerard suggested. 

“I thought about that, but most of the bands around here already have guitarists, and I’m not going to do what Mikey did and switch instruments. Maybe I’m just going to have to go back to school and get a real job.” 

“Playing the guitar is a real job, and you’re amazing at it. I think you’ll find another band eventually.” 

“Thanks, Gerard,” Frank said, but he didn’t sound too convinced. “Make sure to let me know if you find out about any open guitar slots.” 

“Of course,” Gerard said. 

Frank left the comic shop, and as he walked away, Gerard had an idea. It was a simple, elegant solution, one that could fix everything, not just for Frank, but for MCR too. All he had to do was ask his bandmates if Frank could join My Chemical Romance. 

Gerard finished the comic book and put it back on the shelf, and as he walked home, he weighed the pros and cons of talking to the rest of the band about letting Frank join. My Chemical Romance was a democracy, not a dictatorship, after all. They would have to make this decision together. Mikey and Matt would probably be fine with it, but Gerard worried about Ray. He didn’t want Ray to think that he wanted to replace him, because that wasn’t what he wanted at all. Ray was a brilliant guitar player, the best one he knew, but the band needed a fuller sound, and they could make that happen if they had a second guitarist. He only hoped that Ray would see that. 

He could hardly sleep that night, between the pain in his mouth and his worries about what would happen the next day. He tossed and turned, playing through different scenarios in his mind. More than anything, he hoped that his bandmates would say yes. He loved the idea of having Frank in the band, playing next to him every night, creating something beautiful with him, and he was so close to finally making that dream a reality. 

The next day, just as they were about to start recording, the whole band met up. “I kind of want to change the bass line for Demolition Lovers,” Mikey said. 

“Not this again,” Matt complained. “We already finished that song.” 

“Yeah, but the bass part’s boring.” 

“Look how far you’ve come, Mikey,” Ray said, smiling. “Six months ago, you couldn’t have played that bass line if you tried.” 

“Hey guys, I have an idea,” Gerard said suddenly. 

Everyone went quiet. “What is it?” Ray asked. 

“I was thinking that it might be nice for us to have a rhythm guitarist, and Frank’s band just broke up,” Gerard said. “What would you guys think about asking him to join My Chem?” 

“Yeah, that would be awesome,” Ray said. 

“Wait, really?” 

“Yeah,” Ray said. “I was actually planning to ask all of you about adding a second guitarist, but Gerard beat me to it. I think we’re going to need one if we’re going to keep ‘Honey, This Mirror Isn’t Big Enough For The Two of Us’ on the album. Besides, I’ve heard Frank play. He’d fit in perfectly with the rest of the band, and I’m pretty sure he already knows all of our songs.” 

Already, this was going better than Gerard had expected. “Mikey, Matt, what do you guys think?” 

“I’m fine with it,” Mikey said. 

Matt paused and then said, “I like the idea of recruiting another guitarist, but I’m not sure if we should be asking Gerard’s boyfriend to join.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Gerard shouted. 

“Keep telling yourself that,” Matt said. 

“I’m serious! We’re not together!” 

“Yeah, right.” 

“Break it up, you two,” Ray said. 

“But Frank and I really aren’t…” Gerard started to say, but Ray interrupted him.

“I said, break it up,” Ray said. “Let’s put this to a vote. Everyone who wants Frank to join the band, raise your hand.” Ray, Gerard, and Mikey all immediately raised their hands, while Matt scowled. “Sorry Matt, you’re outvoted,” Ray said. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Matt said. “Let’s just record. We’re supposed to work on ‘Drowning Lessons’ today, right?” 

Everyone nodded, and the four of them started trading song ideas. There was no point in arguing any further over Frank. My Chemical Romance was a democracy, not a dictatorship, after all. 

Later that day, Gerard drove to Frank’s house and knocked on his door. As he listened to his dogs bark and howl, he thought about Frank, how he was always there when he needed him, how he poured so much energy and passion into his music, how he could make Gerard’s heart beat fast and bring a smile to his face. He had told Matt the truth. Frank wasn’t his boyfriend, but that didn’t mean that he minded the thought of it. 

Frank suddenly opened the door. “Hey Gerard,” he said. “Come on in.” He went inside, trying to get through the sea of dogs crowding the doorway. “How’s recording going?” 

“It’s fine,” Gerard said. “I talked to my bandmates, and we’re thinking about hiring a rhythm guitarist.” 

“That would be cool,” Frank said. 

“We were wondering if you might like to be in My Chemical Romance with us,” Gerard said. 

Gerard had barely finished his sentence when Frank exclaimed, “I’d love to!” 

“Really?” Gerard said. He’d expected Frank to say yes, but he’d thought that he might at least take some time to think about it. 

“You don’t even know how much this means to me, Gerard,” Frank said. “I love MCR so much, and playing with you...that would just be incredible.” 

“I think so too,” Gerard said. “I can’t wait to be your bandmate, Frank.” 

“Me neither,” Frank said. “So when do I start?” 

“We have a few more recording sessions this week,” Gerard said. “You can come tomorrow morning, and maybe you can even play on a couple of tracks on I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love.” 

“Yeah, that would be great.” 

As promised, Frank showed up the next day to work on the album with the rest of the band. Once they had a second guitarist, Ray was easily able to rewrite the parts for “Honey, This Mirror Isn’t Big Enough For The Two Of Us,” so they were finally able to record it. As he waited for his turn to record, Gerard watched Frank play, in awe of his guitar skills. He watched the way he strummed, aggressively hitting every note as his fingers shifted up and down the neck of the guitar. Frank’s raw, punk style was nothing like Ray’s technical, precise guitar playing, but they complemented each other perfectly. My Chemical Romance felt complete in a way that it never had before. 

Over the next few days, they finished recording I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love, wrapping up the last few songs and making some last minute changes to the album. The first time Gerard listened to it, he was amazed. He couldn’t believe how well it had all come together: his voice, Matt’s drums, Mikey’s bass, and Ray and Frank’s guitars. Even though it had been hard sometimes, he had made a piece of art, one that he could be proud of. 

After they were done, there was nothing left to do but wait. Eyeball wasn’t releasing the album until July, so they all had some time. They made a few music videos, and they did whatever they could to make sure that the album would be a success. Gerard finally went to the dentist, who confirmed that he was not dying, but he did have a pretty bad dental abscess. He got it treated, and soon, he could sing again without being in constant pain. 

My Chemical Romance played a couple of live shows, showing off their new songs and their new guitarist, and when Gerard looked out into the audience, he started seeing bigger and bigger crowds. Sometimes, it made him nervous how many unfamiliar faces were out there, but he always felt better when he caught a glimpse of Frank. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have him in the band, to share a stage with him. 

They were more than just friends now. They were bandmates.


	8. New Jersey 2002

For some reason that Gerard could not understand, Eyeball Records insisted on throwing a record release party for I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love. They were inviting everyone who had worked on the album, everyone who worked for Eyeball, everyone that the higher-ups at the record label had ever met, and probably a few more people besides. It was all going to happen in some lavish mansion with an open bar, and the Eyeball owners guaranteed that everyone would have a great time. It would be the party of the century. 

Gerard wasn’t convinced. He was sure that he would have a better time if he just stayed home and read some comics. If the party wasn’t specifically for his band’s album release, he probably wouldn’t have gone at all. As it was, he was planning to show up, maybe have a drink or two, and then duck out at the earliest possible opportunity. 

He never intended things to go the way they did. 

Gerard and Mikey drove to the party together, and on the way, they chatted about I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love. “I still can’t believe this is happening,” Mikey said. “We’re releasing our debut album today.” 

“Yeah, it is pretty exciting,” Gerard said half-heartedly. 

“Is everything okay?” Mikey asked. 

“Yeah,” Gerard said. “I just don’t get why Eyeball needs to throw us this big party.” 

“Because we’re done with the album?” 

“If we’re going to celebrate, I’d rather do it with just my friends.” 

“Quit being such a killjoy. This is going to be a lot of fun. You’ll see.” 

Gerard still wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t have much of a choice. They were almost at the party, and there was no turning back now. 

He parked the car, and he’d barely stepped onto the driveway when some person he didn’t recognize shouted his name. “Gerard! Congrats on the album release!” 

“Uhh...thanks?” Gerard said. 

Gerard and Mikey went inside, but it was even worse there. There were probably hundreds of people packed on the first floor, and they all wanted to tell Gerard about how My Chemical Romance was going to be the next big thing. He was tossed from conversation to conversation, only occasionally getting the chance to breathe. He lost track of Mikey within minutes, and he hadn’t seen Matt, Ray, or Frank yet. 

Gerard walked past an Eyeball employee handing out copies of I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love and headed straight for the bar. He ordered a drink, and while he waited for the bartender to finish pouring it, he wondered where his bandmates were. They had all said they’d come, but in this crowd, he had no idea where any of them could possibly be. 

The bartender handed Gerard his drink, and he downed it in a single gulp. “Can I get another one?” he asked. The bartender nodded, and Gerard looked back out into the crowd, searching for anyone he knew. 

That was when he spotted Ray, wearing the coolest jacket he’d ever seen. He’d never seen anything like it, especially with that spider design over the American flag, and he wondered where he’d gotten it. “Hey Ray!” Gerard shouted. “Nice jacket!” 

Ray didn’t respond, so he turned back to the bartender, who was done pouring him another drink. He downed it instantly, hoping to drown his sorrows yet again. He must have done something wrong if Ray wouldn’t even acknowledge his existence, but he couldn’t figure out what. 

Gerard had a couple more drinks, and he probably wouldn’t have left the bar at all that night if Eyeball hadn’t decided to play some of My Chemical Romance’s new music videos for everyone at the party. He watched the screen along with everyone else, tapping his foot to the beat of the music. When everyone cheered at the end, he smiled. The videos had turned out better than he’d expected, but even they couldn’t hold his attention for too long, so he went back to trying to figure out where all of his bandmates were.

All of a sudden, a stranger came up to him and said, “I can’t wait to listen to your album!” 

“Thanks, but make sure you don’t make any copies of it,” he said. “Otherwise, I’m going to have to come to your house and suck your blood, and I’m sure you don’t want that.” He laughed, but he was really just asking to leave. 

As the stranger walked away, he stumbled toward the staircase. Maybe the second floor was less crowded. He climbed upstairs, and when he saw that there wasn’t anybody there, he wandered around for a while. Eventually, he got bored of walking in circles and wishing that he was somewhere else, so he opened the door that led to the balcony. 

Frank was there, furtively lighting a cigarette in the moonlight. He looked beautiful as always, and Gerard stood in the doorway for a while, wondering when he’d notice him. He thought about all of the moments they’d shared since they’d first met, how lucky he was to have Frank in his life, even if they weren’t together. He would do it all again if he could. 

“Oh, hey Gerard,” Frank said suddenly. “What are you doing up here?” 

“I just needed to get away from the party,” Gerard answered as he stepped onto the balcony and stood next to Frank. 

“So did I,” Frank said, his tattooed hands resting on the railing as he stared into the distance. “It’s just a mess down there.” 

“No kidding,” Gerard said. 

Frank passed him a cigarette, and Gerard took a long drag, blowing rings of smoke into the air as he admired the view from the balcony. The neighborhood looked strangely beautiful at night. The lights were on, and there was a gentle breeze rustling through the trees. Best of all, he had Frank by his side. Gerard was starting to get the feeling that this night wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

“What do you think’s going to happen after this?” Frank asked. 

“I don’t know,” Gerard said. “Maybe we’ll go on tour or something. If we’re lucky, people will come to our shows, and the album will sell okay, and we’ll get to make another one someday. You could help us write the songs for it. I bet you’d be good at that.” 

Frank smiled. “I’d like that a lot, but you’re not thinking big enough.” 

“I don’t know, Frank,” Gerard said. “Maybe we’ll get a local following, like Pencey Prep did…” 

“My Chemical Romance is way better than Pencey Prep ever was.” Frank sighed and then said, “I don’t think you get how special being in this band is for me. I’ve been playing in bands for a long time, but playing with you...it’s something really magical.” 

“I like playing with you too, Frankie, but we’re not gonna make it,” Gerard said. “I mean, I’m the frontman, and I like D&D, Audrey Hepburn, Fangoria…” 

“And lots of people love you anyways,” Frank interrupted. 

“How do you know that?” Gerard asked. As he said that, he became aware of how close he and Frank were to each other, close enough that they could kiss. 

Frank leaned even closer and said, “It might be easier if I just show you, if you’re okay with that.” 

Gerard nodded and shut his eyes, and all of a sudden, Frank closed the distance between them. He tasted fiery and sweet all at once, and Gerard couldn’t get enough. He felt as if he’d been struck by lightning. As he ran his hands through Frank’s hair, he deepened the kiss, wishing that this moment could last forever. For a little while, he could forget about Ray and Matt and Mikey and the band and the chaos that was erupting below them. They were in their own little universe, where all that mattered was the present. 

They could have gone on like that all night. They had the whole second floor of the house to themselves, after all. This was more than either of them had bargained for, but they had spent the better part of a year bottling up their feelings for each other. They let their emotions take over as they passionately kissed one more time. 

All of a sudden, Gerard pulled away. “What’s the matter?” Frank asked. “Did...did I do something wrong?” 

“No, it’s not that, not at all,” Gerard stuttered. “It has nothing to do with you. I liked that a lot. I like you a lot, and I have for a long time. It’s just...I think I need some time to think.” 

Gerard went back inside, and as he headed downstairs, he tried to think about all of this rationally. It wasn’t something he was normally good at, and it was even harder when there was alcohol buzzing through his veins and he had just kissed the most beautiful man he knew. 

What had he done? A part of him wanted to turn around and go back to the balcony, see if Frank was still there, but he couldn’t do that. He liked Frank a lot, and the feeling he’d gotten from kissing him was pure magic, but they could never be together. 

He wished that he could have it all. He wished that he could be Frank’s bandmate and his boyfriend too. If Frank hadn’t joined My Chemical Romance, maybe they could have made it work, but letting Frank into the band had fundamentally changed them for the better. Even Matt couldn’t disagree with that. The guitars sounded different, but more than that, there was a new sort of energy and enthusiasm at every one of their shows. They couldn’t go back to the way it was before. 

Gerard knew how relationships ended. He’d already been through his fair share of messy breakups. No matter how much he liked Frank now, there was always a chance of things going sour, and he didn’t want to think about what that would do to the band. The last thing he wanted was for My Chemical Romance to turn into Fleetwood Mac. He couldn’t jeopardize their future just because he had a hopeless schoolboy crush on his rhythm guitarist. It was better to let it all go, to forget that any of this had ever happened. 

It was the collision of Frank’s kiss that made it so hard. 

As Gerard approached the bottom of the staircase, he spotted someone standing there, casually drinking a cup of coffee. He suddenly stopped, not quite knowing what to do. The two of them hadn’t seen each other in ten years, but somehow, the man at the bottom of the staircase hadn’t aged a day. Everything was the same: the hair, the mustache, the clothes. Gerard swore he was even wearing the exact same plaid jacket he was wearing the last time they’d met. It was the face that tipped him off though. It was like looking into a mirror. 

The mysterious man was back.


	9. New Jersey 2002

“You owe me a fucking explanation,” Gerard said as he approached the mysterious man. He still had no idea what the mysterious man was doing here, where he had been for the last ten years, or if he was even real, but Gerard was about to find out. He’d get some answers out of the mysterious man if it killed him. 

The mysterious man paused and took a sip of his coffee. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ll answer your questions, but I can’t do it here. Why don’t we head outside for a little bit?” 

The mysterious man gestured toward the door, and Gerard followed him out of the house. They wandered through the neighborhood, going down all of the side streets and passing by all of the little shops and houses. The mysterious man didn’t say a word, but Gerard didn’t mind the silence. It was peaceful, listening to the birds and crickets in the distance. It took his mind off of everything that had happened so far that night. 

They were about a block away from the house where the album release party was presumably still going on when Gerard finally asked, “Who are you?” 

“I’m you from the future,” the mysterious man answered. 

“Yeah, right,” Gerard said. “You’re saying that just to mess with me.” 

“I’m serious,” the mysterious man said. 

“That’s not possible,” Gerard said. “Time travel isn’t real.” 

The mysterious man sighed, exasperated. “I don’t want to argue over this,” he said. “Just humor me, okay?” 

“Fine,” Gerard said. To be fair, if the mysterious man really was a time traveler from the future, it would explain a lot: why he’d said that he was in the wrong year, how he was seemingly able to vanish into thin air, why he and Gerard looked so much alike. He just couldn’t bring himself to believe it. “What year are you from?” 

“2019,” the mysterious man answered. 

“Wow, that’s pretty far away,” Gerard said. “How old will I be in 2019? Forty-five, right?” 

“I’m forty-two, actually,” the mysterious man said. 

“Either I’ve gotten a lot better at math, or you’re not really me.” 

“Trust me, I haven’t gotten any better at math since I was your age. I still can’t add most of the time.” 

Gerard paused and then asked, “So if you’re from the future, then what are you doing here?” 

The mysterious man thought about it for a while, trying to find the right words. Meanwhile, Gerard stared off into space. “Frank dies,” he finally said. 

“Everyone dies eventually.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” He paused again and then said, “Three years ago, Frank was on tour with his solo project…” 

“Three years ago? Like, when I was in college?” 

“Sorry, I meant three years ago relative to my time,” the mysterious man said. “You know, time travel is just so confusing. The Watch has a whole handbook on situations like this, but who the fuck wants to conjugate verbs in the Future Semi-Conditionally Modified Subinverted Plagal Past Subjunctive Intentional?” 

“Whatever, Figment,” Gerard said. 

“What did you just call me?” 

“Figment. Because you’re not real. You’re a figment of my imagination.” 

“I swear I’m real, but honestly, that’s not a bad nickname,” Figment said. “I should give you one too. What do you want me to call you?” 

“Gerard is fine.” 

“Yeah, but that’s _my_ name!” Figment insisted. He thought about it and then said, “How about Youngblood? Because you’re younger than me.” 

“That’s probably the least creative nickname you could have possibly come up with, but I guess it works,” Youngblood said. 

“Figment isn’t much better.” 

“Whatever. This is all probably just some weird dream anyways.” 

“So where was I?” Figment asked. 

“You were saying something about Frank…” 

“Right. In 2016, Frank’s van got hit by a bus, and he...he didn’t make it. Nobody did. The doctors said he died instantly, that he wasn’t in any pain, but he’s still gone, and I miss him. I miss him so, so much...” 

The whole scene played through Youngblood’s mind. He imagined the crash: the broken glass, the sound of the cars colliding, the screams, the blood, the dead bodies. He saw Frank among them, his unblinking eyes frozen in place. He thought about life afterwards, all of those lonely years. He could barely handle two months away from Frank, and even then, he’d known that Frank would come back. How had Figment made it through three years? He saw the pain and sorrow in his eyes, and instantly, he understood. 

“But we can save him,” Figment said. “We can stop the crash from happening. I have a plan, but it’s going to need a lot of people, so I need your help.” He paused and then asked, “Will you do it? Will you help me save Frank?” 

Youngblood’s first instinct was to say yes. He liked Frank a lot, and even if they could never be together, he couldn’t bear the thought of his life being cut short. There was something more important to do first though. He had to make sure that he wasn’t going insane. “Prove that you’re real, and then I’ll help you.” 

“Not this again,” Figment said. He reached into his pocket and then asked, “Will it help at all if I show you my time travel license?”

“Maybe,” Youngblood said. 

Figment handed Youngblood a card, and Youngblood read it over. There was a strange logo and a photo of a bored-looking Figment on it, along with some information. 

_Full Name of Traveler: Gerard Arthur Way  
Date of Birth: 4/9/1977  
Issue Date: 7/11/2017  
License Number: 41089042  
License Type: Research Class C  
License Sponsor: Netflix_

“Netflix?” Youngblood said, confused. “Like the DVD rental service?” 

“They’ve changed their business model quite a bit,” Figment explained. “In my time, they stream TV shows, and they make original content too. They made an adaptation of my comic…” 

“Is it the vampire one I’m working on?” Youngblood interrupted. 

“No.” 

“Do I ever finish that?” 

“Also no.” 

Youngblood cursed loudly, and Figment continued on, ignoring his younger self. “Anyways, they made my comic into a TV show, and they got research-grade time machines for a lot of the people working on the show, including me.” 

Youngblood shrugged and handed the license back to Figment, who stuffed it back into his pocket. “I don’t believe you,” Youngblood said. “You could have faked this. I don’t know why you’d go to that much trouble though.” 

“So what will convince you?” 

“Maybe you should tell me more about the future.” 

“What do you want to know?” 

“I don’t know. Who’s the President of the United States?” 

“Donald Trump.” 

“The billionaire?” Youngblood said, laughing. “Now I know you’re just messing with me!” 

“I wish I was, but I’m dead serious,” Figment said. 

“Yeah, right,” Youngblood said. “So when does time travel get invented?” 

“Time travel was invented in every time, in every place, simultaneously,” Figment said. “That’s what the Watch said during orientation.” 

“You’ve mentioned the Watch a few times,” Youngblood said. “Who are they?” 

“They’re the organization that regulates time travel.” 

“Oh, okay,” Youngblood said. “I guess it doesn’t matter though. Clearly, I just have an overactive imagination, like always…” 

“Wait, I’ve got it,” Figment said. “Ask me some questions about yourself. That should prove that I’m you.” 

“Sure. Uhh...where was I born?” 

“Summit, New Jersey.” 

“What’s my mother’s maiden name?” 

“Rush.” 

“What musical was I in when I was in fourth grade?” 

“Peter Pan,” Figment said. “You suck at this, by the way. I could have answered any of those just by going on Wikipedia.” 

“What’s a Wikipedia?” 

“Never mind.” 

“You know what?” Youngblood said. “I’m done with this. I’m just going to walk back to the party, drive home, and forget any of this ever happened.” 

He started to walk away, and to his surprise, Figment didn’t try to follow him. As he wandered down the street, he wondered what he was going to do about the fact that he was losing his mind. With hallucinations like these, he was clearly turning into a basket case. Then again, he had bigger problems on his hands, like whether or not Frank was still at the party. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he was. What could they possibly say to each other after everything that had just happened?

All of a sudden, he heard Figment say, in a voice that sounded exactly like his own, “You know, things need not have happened to be true.” 

Youngblood turned around suddenly. “Holy shit,” he said as he faced his older self. “You are real.” 

Figment laughed. “That’s what convinced you? A quote from Sandman?” 

“Nobody I know has read that comic!” Youngblood exclaimed. “Not even Mikey!” 

“I am pretty bad at convincing other people to read comics I like…”

“I feel kind of bad for calling you Figment now.” 

“Whatever, Youngblood,” Figment said as he sipped his coffee. “So are you going to help me save Frank or not?” 

“Yeah, I’ll help you,” Youngblood said. “So what do we do now? Are we just going to time travel to 2016 or whatever?” 

“Not quite,” Figment said. “We have a few stops to make before we can stop the accident from happening, and besides, I need to tell you a few things before we go anywhere.” 

“What is it?” Youngblood asked. 

“It’s about the Watch,” Figment said. “When it comes to time travel, they make the rules. All of them. They’re the ones who manufacture the machines and they’re the ones who decide who can travel. They have spies all over the place, and they can arrest you for traveling without a license, violating your license restrictions, or telling someone about time travel who doesn’t already know. I’ve heard that their spies are crazy powerful: apparently they have some device that can force you to time travel, and they can even stop time. Actually, I’m pretty sure that somebody from The Umbrella Academy is in the Watch. I’m 80% sure it’s Ellen Page, but I could be wrong.” 

“Who’s Ellen Page?” 

“It’s not important,” Figment said. “The Watch has all kinds of restrictions. There are plenty of places and times that they’ve banned people from going to, like all active war zones, any time that has the Black Plague, and the entire year of 2007.” 

“Why can’t I go to 2007?” Youngblood asked. 

“It’s for your own good,” Figment answered, which, like many of the things Figment had already said that night, didn’t help at all. 

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Youngblood asked. “Does it really matter what the Watch thinks?” 

Figment paused for a moment. “The Watch says that the timeline is inevitable. Any repercussions of travel to the past are already being felt in the present,” he explained. “I don’t believe that’s true, but the Watch would never have let me go back and save Frank, not when they think that it’s doomed to fail anyways. If they find out what we’re doing, they could arrest both of us. I could even get arrested just for telling you all of this.” He looked straight at Youngblood as he said, “You have to promise me that you won’t let them take you alive.” 

“I promise,” Youngblood said. “So when are we going to go save Frank?” 

“After I finish my coffee,” Figment said. 

“Seriously?” Youngblood said. “Frank’s life is in danger…” 

“Will be in danger,” Figment corrected. 

“...and you care more about your coffee!” 

“So? I like coffee.” 

“So do I, but this is taking it too far.” 

“It won’t take long,” Figment assured his younger self. “So is there anything else you want to know before we leave?” 

“I don’t know. What’s the future like?” 

“You already asked me that.” 

“Yeah, but I want to know more about what happens to me. What happens to us.” 

Figment thought about it for a while before responding. “All of your wildest dreams will come true,” he said, “but so will all of your worst nightmares.” He took one last sip of his coffee and then said, “Okay, I’m done.” 

Youngblood watched as Figment pushed a button on the handle of his coffee mug, and to his amazement, the mug reassembled itself into a watch, the same one that he saw him wearing the last time they’d met. Figment then put the watch on his wrist, and he started typing something into it. “How does it all work?” Youngblood asked, still in awe. 

“The wristwatch is calibrated to my brain waves,” Figment explained. “All I have to do is input the number of travelers, the place, and the year, and it will take me to the exact right moment in spacetime.” 

As he spoke, Youngblood watched him type “2,” “Kentucky,” and “2004,” into the watch. “Close your eyes and just focus,” Figment said. “If you want to come, the time machine should find you and take you with me.” 

Youngblood shut his eyes, and he thought about everything that had already happened that night. It had been a wild ride already, and no matter what happened after this, he knew that this was only the beginning. He thought of Frank, the words he’d said, the moments they’d shared together, the way he looked in the moonlight. He would do anything for him, to make him happy, to give him the life that he deserved. He knew that Frank would have done the same for him.

One moment, Figment and Youngblood were standing on the sidewalk in a small town in New Jersey, and the next, they were gone. They’d vanished into thin air.


	10. Kentucky 2004

When Youngblood opened his eyes, he was practically blinded. It had been late at night when he left, but now, it was the middle of the day, and with the sun in his eyes, he couldn’t see a thing. 

Eventually, his eyes adjusted, and he looked around. Figment was still standing next to him, and they were in the middle of a wide open field. There were people walking by, talking about their favorite bands, and there were white tents everywhere selling food and merch. “Get your official Warped Tour T-shirts here!” one woman shouted. 

“Holy shit,” Youngblood said. “We’re at Warped Tour.” He looked around again, taking it all in. “Wait, does this mean that My Chemical Romance is playing? That’s fucking insane.” 

“Yeah, MCR’s playing later,” Figment said. 

“You weren’t kidding about all my wildest dreams coming true,” Youngblood said. He’d never imagined taking his band this far, and yet, he’d somehow pulled it off. “Are we playing Warped Tour in 2019 too?” 

“I hate to break it to you, but Warped Tour ended in 2018,” Figment said. “They did a 25th anniversary thing in 2019, but that was the last one.” 

“That sucks,” Youngblood said. 

All of a sudden, a teenage girl with jet black hair and heavy makeup walked up to them. “Oh my God, you’re the guy from My Chemical Romance, right?” she said to Youngblood. 

Youngblood looked toward Figment, but as usual, he was no help. “Uhh...no,” he said. “I’m not Gerard Way. I just look a lot like him.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said. 

“It’s okay,” Youngblood said. “I get that a lot.” 

The girl ran off, and Figment quietly said, “We have to get out of here before that happens again. The version of me from this era must be around here somewhere, and once we find him, we can leave. I’ll just Google what stage MCR is playing - he’s probably somewhere around there.” 

He took out his phone, and Youngblood stared at it. “What’s that thing?” he asked. 

“It’s a cell phone.” 

“That’s what cell phones from the future look like?” 

“Yeah,” Figment said as he tried to go online. “Shit. There’s no connection.” He put his phone back in his pocket and then ran after the girl who had tried to talk to Youngblood. “Hey! Do you know what stage MCR is playing on? I’ve heard good things about them, and I’d really love to go see them live.” 

“They’re playing on the Maurice Stage in an hour,” the girl said. 

“Thanks!” Figment said. He ran back to Youngblood and then said, “Let’s go.” 

As they walked away, Youngblood asked, “Shouldn’t you know which stage you’re on? You were here already, weren’t you?” 

“I’ve played a lot of concerts over the years,” Figment said. “They all blur together after a while.” 

“I guess that makes sense,” Youngblood said. 

“By the way, there’s something important I forgot to tell you about time travel,” Figment said. 

“What is it?” Youngblood asked. 

Figment paused and then said, “Shit. I forgot what it was. Maybe it will come to me later.” 

“Do you even realize how useless you are?” 

“I’m doing the best I can!” 

“Well, it’s not good enough!” 

The two of them reached the Maurice stage, where there was another band performing. A lot of people were crowded around the stage, but Figment made his way through, and Youngblood reluctantly followed him. “I’m pretty sure the band’s backstage right now,” Figment said. “Just tell the security guards your name, and they’ll let you in.” 

Youngblood still couldn’t quite believe how big My Chemical Romance had become in two short years. “Was I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love really this successful?” he asked. 

“No, it was our second album that got popular,” Figment answered.

“What’s it called?” Youngblood asked. 

“I’ll let you come up with that yourself,” Figment said with a smile as he walked up to the door that led backstage. There was a security guard standing next to the door, and she scowled as she glanced at Figment and Youngblood. 

“Gerard, didn’t you already walk in here?” she said to Youngblood. 

“Uhh...yeah. I just left to pick up my...uhh...my cousin,” Youngblood said. “He wanted to meet the band.” 

“I see,” the security guard said. “You two look a lot alike.” 

“Strong family resemblance,” Figment and Youngblood said simultaneously. 

“Okay, you can come in,” the security guard said. 

She opened the door, and Figment and Youngblood went inside. “I’m your cousin?” Figment said once they were out of earshot. “You really couldn’t come up with anything better?” 

“Sorry, but you really could have helped more instead of just leaving everything to…” 

All of a sudden, Figment heard the sounds of instruments playing and voices chatting amongst themselves. “Youngblood, be quiet,” he whispered. “The other members of the band might hear us.” 

They tiptoed down the hall, careful not to make any noise. Eventually, they made it to the room where the band members were doing a soundcheck, or more accurately, Ray and Mikey were eating snacks instead of tuning their instruments, Frank and this era’s Gerard were nowhere to be found, and the drummer was the only one who was actually doing a soundcheck. 

Youngblood didn’t recognize the drummer, a serious-looking, blond-haired man. “Who’s that?” he asked Figment. 

“That’s Bob,” he whispered. 

“What happened to Matt?” Youngblood asked. 

“He left the band after we released our second album.” 

“Did...did anyone else leave?” Youngblood asked nervously. “I mean, I don’t see Frank anywhere…” 

“No, he’s still in the band,” Figment said. “Trust me, Frank, Ray, and Mikey are all in it for the long haul.” 

“That’s good,” Youngblood said. He couldn’t imagine My Chemical Romance without Ray’s guitar solos or Mikey’s bass playing, but losing Frank would be the worst of all. He couldn’t imagine getting on stage without him. 

Youngblood looked toward Ray, who was apparently doing an interview while eating a cupcake. He’d grown out his hair, but otherwise, he looked pretty similar to the Ray that Youngblood knew. “I mean, me and Gerard are like 27, we’re…” He accidentally stuck his hand in the cupcake and laughed. “We’ve gotten past the point...look at it, I just put my hand in a cupcake!” 

Figment laughed hysterically, and Youngblood glared at him. “Didn’t you just tell me to be quiet?” he said. 

“Sorry,” Figment whispered. “I forgot how funny that was.” 

Ray got up and walked over to Mikey, who was sitting in a corner. He was holding a flip phone against his ear with one hand and sticking a fork into a toaster with the other. “Hi Mom,” he said. “Yeah, the tour’s going fine...yeah...yeah, we’re in Louisville right now…no, we haven’t gotten into any trouble...yeah, Gerard’s doing fine…” 

“What are you doing?” Ray asked Mikey. 

“I’m calling my mom,” Mikey said. “Oh, that’s just Ray...he’s doing fine too…” 

“I meant with the fork and the toaster,” Ray said. “That looks like a very easy way to get electrocuted.” 

“Yeah, but I need to get my toast out of the toaster somehow,” Mikey said. “Sorry Mom, I was talking to Ray again...could you maybe say that one more time?” 

“Why are you even making toast right now?” 

“I’m hungry!” Mikey whined as he desperately stabbed his fork into the toaster. “No, I can’t put Gerard on the phone...we don’t know where he is right now, but he’ll be back in time for the show...I told you, Gerard’s okay...yeah, I think so...Mom, you can’t be serious...I can’t lecture him about something like that...I’m his brother, not his babysitter…” 

All of a sudden, Frank ran into the room, and Youngblood didn’t know how it was possible, but he had somehow become even more beautiful over the last two years. For the most part, Frank looked the same as he had before, but he’d gotten a new haircut and a couple of new tattoos. As Youngblood stared at this version of Frank, so familiar and yet so different, he wondered what had become of their friendship. He hoped that it had blossomed into something more, even though he knew just how impossible that was. 

“Do any of you know where Gerard is?” Frank asked the others. 

“No,” Bob said. “I thought you knew where he was.” 

“Nope, I have no idea, and we really need to find him before the show starts,” Frank said. “Ray? Mikey?” 

Mikey shook his head and Ray said, “You know, we all need to keep better track of our band members. Maybe I wouldn’t have been left behind at that truck stop in Minnesota if you all had been…” 

“Ray, focus!” Frank shouted. “This is an emergency! We need to find Gerard! We can’t play without him!” 

Mikey, still on the phone, said, “Mom, it’s not that big of a deal...Frank’s just overreacting…” 

“I am not overreacting!” Frank exclaimed. “I’m just trying to be a good boyfr...I MEAN, BANDMATE! I AM TRYING TO BE A GOOD BANDMATE TO GERARD!” 

“I’ll help you look after I’m done making my toast,” Mikey offered. 

“Thanks, Mikey,” Frank said as he started looking around the room. “He couldn’t have gone too far, right? I saw him this morning, and he knows that we have to play in an hour. Maybe I’ll post something online asking if anyone’s seen him. Does anyone have a computer?”

“You can use mine, but let’s look around here first before we go that far,” Ray said. 

“Good idea,” Frank said. 

While Mikey got off the phone and frantically ate his toast, Frank, Ray, and Bob all wandered around backstage, searching for Gerard. They looked everywhere that they could think of, but no matter how many rooms they rummaged through, they still couldn’t find him. Meanwhile, Figment and Youngblood stayed in place, hoping that the other members of the band wouldn’t find them. 

“Okay, we’re getting desperate now,” Frank said after they’d looked around for a while. He took a deep breath and then screamed, “MIKEY WAY SUCKS!” 

Both Youngblood and Figment flinched, while Mikey complained from the other room. “Why me?” he asked. 

“Because you’re his brother, and he’ll be super offended if I insult you,” Frank said. 

“He’s not wrong,” Figment whispered to Youngblood. 

“You know what, I’ll mix it up a bit,” Frank said. “RAY TORO SUCKS! BOB BRYAR SUCKS! FRANK IERO SUCKS! YOUR WHOLE BAND SUCKS, AND I HATE YOU! GERARD, PLEASE SHOW UP OUT OF NOWHERE AND KILL ME FOR SAYING ALL OF THIS!”

When nothing happened, Frank sighed and said, “I guess he’s not here. Maybe he’s wandering around outside or something.” 

He started walking toward the hallway where Figment and Youngblood were. Panicked, Figment sprinted away before Frank could see him, and Youngblood followed close behind. 

They kept running until they were standing in front of the tour bus. “He’s in there,” Figment said. 

“Who is?” Youngblood asked. 

“The version of me from this era,” Figment said. 

“How are we going to get in?” Youngblood asked. Figment held up a key ring with several keys and a giant robot keychain on it, and he smiled. “Where did you get that?” 

“Ray dropped it on the ground,” Figment said. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he gets it back before we leave.” 

“Okay, maybe you’re not as useless as I thought you were.” 

Figment unlocked the tour bus, and he and Youngblood went inside. The lights were off, and everything was quiet. “Are you sure he’s in here?” Youngblood asked. 

“I’m not going to sing tonight!” a voice shouted. “I’m fucking done with this!” 

“I told you so,” Figment said. 

The two of them walked toward where the voice was coming from, and they found the Gerard from this era sitting in a corner, next to a half-empty bottle of vodka. He’d apparently kept the dyed black hair, and he was wearing a black suit and a striped tie. He looked absolutely miserable, and Youngblood, no matter how hard he thought about it, couldn’t figure out why. His band was successful, he had bandmates who cared about him, and if Youngblood hadn’t misheard, he was dating Frank. 

He wondered how the hell he’d ended up here.


	11. Kentucky 2004

“Oh, it’s you again,” the Gerard from 2004 said as he looked up at Figment. “What are you even doing here?” 

“Same thing as before,” Figment responded. “We’re going to save Frank.” 

“Frank’s fine,” he insisted. “I talked to him this morning.” He glanced out the window of the tour bus, and when he was sure that nobody else was around, he added, “Of course, we did a lot more than just talking, if you know what I mean…” 

“I’m you, remember?” Figment said. “You don’t have to tell me anything about what you two did this morning. I know everything you know.” 

The Gerard from 2004 didn’t seem to be listening, but Youngblood couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d just said. Not only would My Chemical Romance become successful, but he and Frank would end up together too. His future self really did have it all, but something didn’t quite add up. The man in front of him didn’t look like someone whose dreams had all come true. 

“Anyways, we’re saving Frank in the future - 2016, to be specific.” Figment continued to explain. “Current Frank is okay.” 

“That’s good,” 2004 Gerard said as he reached for the bottle of vodka and started to open it. 

“What are you doing?!” Figment shouted. 

“I’ll be damned if I’m going to talk to my past self and my future self while sober.” He was about to take a sip when Figment snatched the bottle out of his hands and placed it in another room. “What the fuck, Figment?” 

“You can’t do this, Revenge,” Figment said. 

“What did you just call me?” he said. “Revenge? Like Three Cheers For…” 

“Don’t say it!” Figment shouted. “Youngblood hasn’t made that album yet!” 

Youngblood perked up at the mention of the mysterious second album. “Three cheers…” he mumbled. “Three cheers for what? Probably Three Cheers For Revenge or something like that…” 

“You’re close,” Revenge said. 

“Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge?” Youngblood guessed. Figment and Revenge exchanged a glance. “Did I get it?” 

“Yeah, you got it,” Figment said. 

“Well, that’s going to make naming the next album a whole lot easier,” Youngblood said with a smile. 

“Definitely,” Revenge said. “I remember it was so hard to get everyone to agree on I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love. We had, like, five different ideas for the album name going around…” 

“I know, right?” Youngblood said. “It was so chaotic.” 

Revenge turned back to Figment. “So can I have my drink back?” he asked. 

“Yeah, that was kind of mean of you to take it away from him like that,” Youngblood chimed in. 

“No, you’re not getting your drink back, Revenge,” Figment said. “I need you sober for this.” 

“How do you expect me to help you when I’m sober?” Revenge asked, practically on the verge of tears. “I can’t do anything, Figment. I can’t even get out of bed most days. I definitely can’t sing. Not like I was going to do that anyways. I’m fucking done with this shit.” 

“So you were going to sabotage the show,” Figment said. 

“Not really,” Revenge said. “They could play without me. Nobody’s really here for MCR anyways. Nobody cares if I sing. Actually, maybe the band would be better off without me. Maybe the whole world would.” 

“That’s not true at all, but do you want to know what Frank told me after he heard about all of this?” 

“What?” 

“He said that he wanted to put down his guitar and leave. He didn’t want to play without you, and I think the rest of the band feels the same way. They love you, Revenge. Don’t ever let yourself think otherwise.” 

The whole tour bus went quiet for a few minutes. Youngblood was scared more than anything. Sometimes, he felt the exact same way Revenge did. There were days when he couldn’t face the world. There were days when he felt worthless, alone, confused, rejected. There were days when he drank or took pills to ease the pain. He couldn’t imagine feeling like that all the time. 

“Sometimes, Frank’s the only thing that makes me happy,” Revenge finally said. “And even he’s going to die in a few years.” 

“We’re about to fix that,” Figment said. 

“But what if it doesn’t work?” Revenge asked. 

“I...I don’t know what I’ll do,” Figment said. “But you’ve got some of the best years of your life still ahead of you, and you’ve got so many great memories left to make. You can’t be afraid to keep on living.” 

Everyone went quiet for a second time, and again, it was Revenge who broke the silence. “I mean, I guess I’ll sing tonight, if that’s what you want, but that’s a problem for later, right?” he said. “We’re going to save Frank first.” 

“Right,” Figment said. “There are a few things I need to do before we leave though.” 

“Like what?” Revenge asked.

“Well, I need to make sure that Ray gets this back,” Figment said, holding up Ray’s keys. “Also, I...I’d really like to talk to Frank.” 

“Why?” Revenge asked. 

“Because I haven’t talked to him in a while, and...there’s a lot I want to say.” 

“Won’t he recognize you?” 

“Hopefully not.” As he got off of the tour bus, Figment said, “Just wait here, okay? I’ll be back soon.” 

“Okay,” Revenge said, but as soon as Figment was gone, he rolled down all of the windows and watched Frank as he wandered around and shouted his name. 

“What are you doing?” Youngblood asked as he joined Revenge at the window. 

“You ever notice how Figment never tells us anything about what’s going on?” Revenge said. 

“Yeah,” Youngblood said.

“He has to be hiding something, right? Maybe if we watch him talk to Frank, we’ll figure it out.” 

Youngblood nodded. He had no clue what Figment could possibly be keeping from them, but he was sure they’d find out soon enough. 

“So you’re really me from two years ago, huh?” Revenge said. “That’s crazy.” 

“Actually, this whole day’s been pretty crazy so far,” Youngblood said. 

“Yeah, I kind of remember that,” Revenge said. “You were just at the album release party, right?” 

“Yeah,” Youngblood said. 

“I mean, that was a pretty awful party…” 

“No kidding.” 

“But making out with Frank almost made up for it,” Revenge said. “Then again, that’s true of a lot of parties.” Youngblood paused to consider the implications of that, but before he could say anything, Revenge said, “When you get back to 2002, make sure you say hi to Grandma for me.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Youngblood asked. “Does something happen to her?” Revenge didn’t respond, which just scared him. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing his grandmother. Desperate to change the subject, he asked, “What else have you been up to today?” 

“Well...we played in Kansas last night, and let me tell you, Kansas is the worst. Frank says that there’s nowhere in the world that’s better than Jersey, and he’s totally wrong, but Kansas is definitely worse than Jersey. Like, how is that even possible? Jersey sucks. Then, we got to Kentucky this morning, and…” 

All of a sudden, Figment walked up to Frank. Youngblood and Revenge both went quiet and watched the two of them. 

“Hey,” Figment said a little nervously. 

“Uhh...hey,” Frank said. “Do I know you? You look kind of familiar.” 

“I’m Gerard’s cousin,” he said. 

“Oh,” Frank said. “You look a lot like him.” 

“Strong family resemblance.” 

“Oh okay. Nice to meet you. I’m Gerard’s boyfr...I mean bandmate! Why do I keep screwing that up? Anyways, my name’s Frank, and I play rhythm guitar.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Figment said. “Gerard talks a lot about you.” 

“He does?” Frank said, blushing. 

“Yeah. All the time.” 

“That’s nice of him.” 

“Anyways, I really wanted to say thank you,” Figment said. “You’ve been so good to me...I mean Gerard...even when he doesn’t deserve it. You really seem to love and care about him, and I...I mean he...he really, really appreciates it. It’s wonderful that he has someone like you in his life, and I know things are tough right now, but eventually, he’ll get clean, and he’ll realize just how lucky he is. You stuck with me...him... no matter what, and I can’t thank you enough for that.”

“Uhh...you’re welcome, I guess,” Frank said, more confused than anything. 

“Also, do you happen to know whose keys these are?” Figment said, holding up Ray’s keys. “I found them on the ground.” 

“Judging by the giant robot keychain, I think they’re Ray’s,” Frank said. 

“Would you mind giving them back to him?” 

“Yeah, I can do that.” 

“Thanks,” Figment said as he handed the keys to Frank. 

“So do you happen to know where Gerard is?” Frank asked. “I can’t find him anywhere, and we’re playing soon.” 

“No, I haven’t seen him,” Figment said. 

“Oh okay,” Frank said. “I should go then. Let me know if you see him!” 

Frank ran off, screaming Gerard’s name at the top of his lungs. Meanwhile, Figment walked back to the tour bus. 

“That didn’t help,” Revenge said as he rolled up the windows. “We still don’t know what Figment’s hiding.” 

“Maybe he’s not hiding anything,” Youngblood suggested. 

“Yeah, right,” Revenge said. “He wouldn’t be so damn secretive if he didn’t have something to hide.”

All of a sudden, Figment climbed back onboard the bus. “Frank’s going to find us soon,” he said. “We should leave before he gets here.” 

“Finally,” Revenge said. “I don’t know about you, Youngblood, but I want to find out what the future holds.”

Figment started typing something on his watch, and Youngblood leaned over to see what he was doing. However, he couldn’t get a good view. He would just have to trust his future self. 

“Come on, Figment,” Revenge complained. “Let’s get the hell out of here already.” 

“I’m typing as fast as I can!” Figment exclaimed. 

All of a sudden, Figment finished pushing the buttons on his watch. He lifted his hand away, and just as Frank was about to unlock the tour bus, the three Gerards all vanished into thin air.


	12. California 2006

They found themselves standing in front of a huge, fancy mansion. It wasn’t like anything that Youngblood had ever seen back home in New Jersey, with a pool and a garden and enough space for everyone he knew. He stared at the mansion in awe, but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t imagine why Figment had brought them here, of all places. 

“Where and when are we, exactly?” Revenge asked. 

“January 2006, I believe,” Figment said with a slight smile. “Welcome to the Paramour Mansion.”

“Do I actually live here in the future?” Revenge asked in disbelief. 

“No, the band just rented the place while we were working on our third album,” Figment said. 

“So this era’s version of me is probably inside,” Youngblood said. “How are we going to get in?” 

“Honestly, I bet we could just walk in there,” Figment said. “The others were awful about closing the goddamn door. We’re just going to have to be very careful to make sure that they don’t see us.” 

Figment walked up to the door, and Revenge and Youngblood followed him. As he walked, Youngblood kept looking around, still unable to believe his eyes. My Chemical Romance must have gotten really popular if they could afford to rent this place. 

Sure enough, the door was unlocked, so Revenge, Figment, and Youngblood all went inside. “Do you guys mind if I make a quick stop in the kitchen?” Figment said as soon as everyone was in the house. “I literally haven’t had any coffee since 2002.” 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Youngblood said.

Figment headed into the kitchen, and Revenge and Youngblood followed him. As soon as they got there, the two younger Gerards started digging around in the refrigerator. Meanwhile, Figment took off his watch and pushed a button on it, and it suddenly transformed into a coffee mug. He then poured himself a cup of coffee. 

“I totally forgot you could do that,” Revenge said. “It’s kind of a neat trick.” 

“Isn’t it?” Figment said as he took a sip of coffee. “Do you two want anything?” 

“I’m okay for now,” Youngblood said. He worried that the 2006 version of him might kill him if they drank too much of his coffee, and there wasn’t much in the refrigerator. All he and Revenge could find were cans of Diet Coke, some leftover sushi, and a couple of veggie burgers that likely belonged to Frank.

“I’m fine too,” Revenge said. 

“Okay,” Figment said. “Let’s go find Pepper.”

“Pepper,” Revenge said. “Is that an album too?” 

“No, it’s short for Sgt. Pepper,” Figment said. 

“Fuck,” Revenge said. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to think of an album title.” 

“Why’s that his nickname?” Youngblood asked. 

“You’ll see,” Figment said, much to Revenge and Youngblood’s annoyance. 

“So where is he right now?” Youngblood asked. 

“I don’t remember,” Figment said. 

Youngblood and Revenge both groaned. “Don’t you have any idea?” Revenge said. 

“I mean, you lived here, didn’t you?” Youngblood said. “You know your way around. We don’t.” 

Figment thought about it for a while and then said, “I guess we could look upstairs. That’s where his bedroom is. Then again, I know Mikey slept on the floor in that room for a few days because of that creepy blue lightbulb, and there’s always the risk of running into Frank…” 

“We can at least try looking there,” Youngblood said as he headed for the staircase. Figment, Revenge, and Youngblood all climbed upstairs, but they suddenly stopped when Frank, Ray, and Bob walked into the kitchen. 

As far as Youngblood could tell, not much had changed in the two years that had passed since he’d last seen them. He stayed quiet, hoping that they wouldn’t notice him or either of his future selves. 

“Hey, who drank all the coffee?” Bob complained as he glanced at the empty coffee pot. 

“I’ll bet you anything it was Gerard,” Ray said. 

“Shit, how did he know?” Figment whispered. 

“Shut up,” Youngblood said. 

“Did you guys hear that?” Frank said. 

“Hear what?” Ray said. 

“Those voices,” Frank said. “And we heard those footsteps when we came in here. I’m telling you, this place is haunted.” 

“Yeah, right,” Ray said. 

“It would explain why the bathtub started filling up with water the other day when none of us were here,” Bob said. 

“Oh, come on, Bob,” Ray said. “Don’t tell me you believe in ghosts too.” 

“Then how do you explain the voices we just heard?” Frank asked. 

“It was probably just some weird echo,” Ray said. 

“Now that I think about it, that did sound a lot like Gerard’s voice…” 

“I told you so.”

As Frank took a veggie burger out of the refrigerator and stuck it in the microwave, Ray looked up toward the staircase. Figment, Youngblood, and Revenge all ducked, hoping that Ray wouldn’t spot them. Thankfully, he turned back toward Frank and Bob, and the three Gerards breathed a sigh of relief.

“Has Mikey left yet?” Bob asked. “I haven’t seen him since this morning.” 

“Last time I checked, he was still packing,” Frank said as he took his burger out of the microwave.

“I hope he’s doing okay,” Ray said. “I know this whole recording session has been pretty hard on him.” 

“Maybe if we hadn’t put him in the most haunted room in the whole house…” Frank said. 

“For the last time, Frank, the Paramour isn’t haunted!” 

“Have you seen that creepy blue light in Mikey’s room?” 

“It’s just a lightbulb!” 

“It’s a really creepy lightbulb!” Frank exclaimed. “Besides, it’s not just that room. Apparently Gerard’s room is haunted too.” 

“Yeah, right,” Ray said. 

“I’m serious. You should ask him about it.” 

“Maybe later, Frank. We have bigger problems to worry about than whether this place is haunted or not.” 

“Like what?” Frank asked. 

“Well, first of all, I’ve got this cool idea for a guitar riff, and I should write it down before I forget it,” Ray said. “After that, we all should go check on Mikey and help him pack up. We need to get better at supporting our bandmates around here. Then, we can ask Gerard what he thinks about this house potentially being haunted.” 

“Okay, fine,” Frank said as he finished off his veggie burger. “What song is the new riff for, Ray?” 

“The Five of Us Are Dying,” Ray answered. “Although I’ve been thinking that we should probably change the name of that song.” 

“I agree, but I also don’t have any better ideas…” 

Frank, Ray, and Bob walked away, still chatting about their ideas for the album, and Figment, Youngblood, and Revenge finally got a chance to relax. “I think we’re safe now,” Figment said. 

Revenge still looked a bit nervous. “They kept talking about Mikey,” he said. “What...what happens to him? Is he okay?” 

Figment sighed and then said, “To make a long story short, he left My Chem.” 

“Wait, what?!” Revenge exclaimed. “Mikey leaves the band?” 

“You told me that he was in it for the long haul!” Youngblood shouted. He wasn’t sure who he was angrier with: Mikey, for leaving My Chemical Romance, or Figment, for lying to him. 

“Calm down, you two,” Figment said. “It’s only temporary. He comes back after a week or so.” 

“Why is he leaving?” Youngblood asked. 

“It started when we first got here,” Figment said. “He wasn’t doing well mentally, and I don’t think putting him in the scariest room in a haunted mansion helped. He tried to self-medicate, but nothing worked, and eventually, he decided that he had to leave.” 

“Oh God,” Youngblood said. “I don’t know what we would do without Mikey.” 

They wouldn’t have anyone to play the bass if he left, but it wasn’t about that. For Youngblood, it was bad enough knowing that he would become Revenge one day, a tortured artist who had turned to drugs and alcohol when nothing else would stop his suffering. It was even worse knowing that his little brother would have to confront those same demons. 

“Again, he gets better,” Figment said. He climbed up the stairs, and Youngblood and Revenge followed him. They soon came to a door, and Figment said, “I’m pretty sure this was my room.” He opened the door, but it was slammed in his face. 

“Someone else must be in there,” Youngblood said. 

“Or maybe Pepper _really_ doesn’t want to talk to us,” Revenge suggested. 

“I don’t think so,” Figment said as he slowly opened the door one more time. All three of them looked inside, and to their surprise, the room was completely empty. There were a handful of decorations that Pepper had put up, like a huge Iron Maiden poster on the back wall and a stack of comic books on the floor, but there was nobody in the bedroom, no matter where they looked. 

“What the fuck?” Revenge said. “Who slammed the door then?” 

“Probably a ghost,” Youngblood said. 

Figment closed the door and opened the next one. This time, they were in Frank’s room, but there was nobody there either. After checking a few rooms on the second floor, Figment said, “We need a new plan.” 

“I’ve got one,” Revenge said. “We could forget about Pepper, go straight to 2016, and perform a necromantic ritual to resurrect Frank.” 

“No,” Figment said. 

“Or we could stay here, start a vampire apocalypse, and hope that Pepper joins us when he finds out that there’s a vampire-fighting team composed entirely of people named Gerard Way,” Revenge said. 

“I kind of like that idea,” Youngblood said. 

“No, we’re not doing that either,” Figment said. 

“How about delivering the souls of a thousand evil men to the devil in exchange for Frank?” Revenge said. 

“No way, Revenge,” Figment said. “How about this? We’ll check the rest of the rooms on this floor, and then if we still can’t find Pepper, we’ll go back downstairs.” 

“Why do you have to be such a killjoy?” Revenge complained. “First you took my vodka away, and now you’re keeping us from doing anything that’s actually fun…” 

“Your idea of ‘fun’ is going to get us all killed,” Figment said. “Let’s just find Pepper and get out of here before we cause any more trouble than we already have.” 

Youngblood and Revenge reluctantly went along with Figment’s plan, and the three of them walked down the hallway toward the next room. However, they ran straight into Mikey. Figment, Youngblood, and Revenge all glanced at each other, desperately trying to figure out what to do. Youngblood tried to find an escape route, but there was nowhere to run this time. They’d been found out. 

Mikey was strangely unfazed as he looked at the three Gerards. “Hey Gerard,” he said. “Don’t forget to put ‘Disenchanted’ on the album.” 

He then walked past Youngblood, Revenge, and Figment, carrying his suitcase behind him. “That was weird,” Youngblood said once Mikey was gone. 

“I don’t know what he’s on, but I kind of want some,” Revenge said. 

“Absolutely not,” Figment said as he sipped his coffee. “Let’s check this last room, and then we’ll go downstairs.” 

Figment slowly opened the door, and the first thing Youngblood noticed when he entered the room was the sheer amount of sticky notes posted on the walls. They were everywhere, and when he saw the cryptic words scribbled on them, there was no question about who had written them. 

At the back of the room, there was a man with short, white hair wearing a black marching band jacket. He had just posted another sticky note on the wall, and he was writing on it. All of a sudden, he stepped away from the wall and admired his handiwork. He’d written, “We are all just a black parade.” 

At last, they’d found Pepper.


	13. California 2006

“I almost forgot about the Heavy Room,” Figment said as he looked around. “This was one of my favorite spots in the whole house.” 

Pepper suddenly dropped his pen and turned around. “Please tell me that’s not another ghost,” he said. When he noticed Figment, Youngblood, and Revenge, he said, “Oh, it’s just you again. What do you want from me this time?” 

“Same thing as always,” Figment said. 

“Right. Frank’s going to die in the future, and we need to go save him,” Pepper said. “I have something I need to do first though.”

“Something that’s more important than saving Frank?” Youngblood said. 

“I need to say goodbye to Mikey before he leaves,” Pepper said. “I don’t know if you guys heard, but he...he’s leaving the band for a little while.” 

“He already left,” Figment said. 

“What do you mean ‘he already left?’” Pepper said angrily. 

“We ran into him on the way here,” Figment said. 

“He said something about putting a song called ‘Disenchanted’ on the album,” Youngblood added. He still wasn’t sure what Mikey was talking about, but running into him was far from the strangest thing that had happened during this adventure. 

“He really won’t shut up about ‘Disenchanted,’ will he?” Pepper said. “I’ve told him we’re not putting that song on the album, but he just won’t let it go.” 

“Why aren’t you putting it on the album?” Youngblood asked. 

“Because we have other songs that are better.” Pepper sighed and then said, “I guess I’m just going to have to call Mikey later, but I wish I’d gotten to say goodbye to him in person. You guys should have told me he was leaving.” 

“I’m sorry,” Figment said. “We weren’t sure where you were.” 

Pepper stared into the distance, looking quite disenchanted, for lack of a better word. He then turned back to the others and said, “Anyways, I just have to be back by tonight. I told Frank I’d take him out for dinner, and then we’re going to see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. I don’t know why he wants to see that movie again - he’s already seen it, and he said that the book was better - but I digress.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Figment said. “We’ll be back long before then.” 

“Great,” Pepper said. 

All of a sudden, Youngblood asked a very important question. “Where did you get the marching band jacket?” 

“Oh, this?” Pepper asked as he gestured toward the jacket. “I just found it in my closet the other day. I think a ghost put it there.” 

“So the house really is haunted,” Revenge said. “That’s fucking awesome.” 

“Yes, the Paramour is haunted, and no, it’s not ‘fucking awesome,’” Pepper said. “We thought it would be fun to record here, but now Mikey’s gone, and I haven’t slept in, like, a week…” 

“Why not?” Youngblood asked. 

Pepper took a deep breath and said, “I’ve been having these night terrors. It’s like someone’s gripping my throat and squeezing, and I have these awful dreams, and...I don’t want to talk about it anymore. This place is horrible, and we never should have come here.” 

“You really need to get out of the house,” Figment said. 

“Yeah, I do,” Pepper said. “I feel like the Paramour’s driving me insane.” 

“Why don’t we all take a walk?” Figment suggested. “The weather’s nice enough for it.” 

Pepper nodded, and all four of them left the Heavy Room and headed downstairs. However, just as they were about to leave, Frank, Ray, and Bob showed up. “I’ll deal with this,” Pepper said to the others quietly. “You three can go outside. I’ll meet you there in a minute.” 

Youngblood and Revenge followed Figment outside, but they watched Pepper through the window, curious as to what their future self was up to. “What are you doing?” Figment asked. 

“Spying on Pepper, obviously,” Youngblood said. 

“Trust me, there’s nothing interesting going on in there,” Figment said. 

Youngblood begged to differ. There were plenty of interesting things going on inside. Apparently, Frank and Ray still hadn’t quit arguing, because the first thing Frank did was ask, “Gerard, what do you think? Is the Paramour haunted?”

“Oh, definitely,” Pepper said. 

“See? I told you so!” Frank said. 

“You guys are just paranoid,” Ray said. 

“I swear we’re not,” Frank said. “By the way, where did you get that jacket?” 

“The ghosts gave it to me,” Pepper said. 

“Yeah, right,” Ray said. 

“I’m serious!” Pepper exclaimed. 

“No matter where you got it, it looks great on you,” Frank said. 

“Thanks, Frank,” Pepper said. 

“No problem.” 

“Anyways, I should probably go,” Pepper said. 

“Where are you going?” Frank asked. 

“I’m just going to take a walk to clear my mind,” Pepper said. “This house is getting to me, and I miss Mikey already, and I think I just need some time alone.” 

“Okay,” Frank said. “Love you, Gee.” He then realized that Ray and Bob were there, and he quickly added, “In the most heterosexual way possible.” 

“You too, Frank,” Pepper said as he went outside. He shut the door and then said, “That was close.” 

“Let’s just go,” Figment said. He started walking, and the other three followed him. 

“Where are we going exactly?” Youngblood asked as they headed down the street. He couldn’t stop staring at all of the other houses in the neighborhood: huge, fancy mansions that were far out of his price range. He still couldn’t quite believe everything that had happened so far, that this would be his future. He’d only time traveled four years though. In the grand scheme of things, four years was no more than a speck of sand in the hourglass of time. There was more to come, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what might happen next. 

“Can we go to the comic book shop?” Pepper asked. “It’s just down the road.” 

“I wish we could,” Figment said. “I love that place, but the owner might think it’s a bit weird if all four of us show up.” 

“She didn’t judge me when I asked for 52 copies of The Filth,” Pepper said. “I think she can handle it.” 

“What’s The Filth?” Youngblood asked. 

“It’s just a comic by Grant Morrison…” Pepper said. 

“It’s really good!” Revenge interjected. 

“Shut up, I’m trying to talk,” Pepper said. “I think you’ll have to wait a little bit, Youngblood, but it’s really good.” 

“Especially at the end, where we find out that The Hand…” 

“Don’t spoil it for him!” Pepper shouted. 

“I think it’s better if you know the twist,” Revenge said. 

“I’ll read it for myself later,” Youngblood said. Even though he wanted to read this mysterious comic as soon as possible, he would just have to wait until after he was back in 2002 and it was actually released. More than anything, he didn’t want his future self to spoil the experience of reading a new Grant Morrison comic for him. 

“So I guess we’re not going to the comic book shop,” Pepper said sadly. 

“It can’t be better than the one back home anyways,” Revenge said. 

“It’s not better, but I’m probably only saying that because of nostalgia,” Pepper said. “I have a lot of good memories there.” 

Both Revenge and Youngblood nodded. “Like that time Frank threw a surprise party there for my 26th birthday,” Revenge said. 

“Quit spoiling things for Youngblood!” Pepper exclaimed. “It won’t be a surprise party if he knows it’s going to happen!” 

“I don’t know. I remember being pretty surprised,” Revenge said.

Pepper groaned. “Am I always this annoying?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Revenge and Youngblood answered simultaneously. 

There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Youngblood said, “Can you guys tell me more about the future? I kind of want to know what happens.” 

“Sure,” Pepper said. “What do you want to know?” 

“What happens with the band?” Youngblood asked. 

“I won’t be too specific, since you’ll experience everything for yourself, but other than Mikey leaving, My Chemical Romance is doing okay,” Pepper said. “We’re working on our third album, and it’s coming along, I guess. I don’t know what we’ll do without Mikey though.” 

“I think you’ll make it through,” Youngblood said. 

“Yeah, Figment told us that he comes back soon,” Revenge added. 

“That’s good to hear,” Pepper said. “I want my brother to get better, and I want everyone in my band to stay mentally healthy, but I also want to make art. I guess I’m still figuring out how to do all of that at the same time.” Pepper paused for a moment, as if lost in thought. Then he said, “Wait a second. I’ve got an idea.” 

“What is it?” Youngblood asked. 

“It’s a line in a comic...no, it’s a drawing...no wait, it’s a song lyric!” Pepper exclaimed. “Mama, we all go to hell! But what comes after it?” 

Revenge and Youngblood glanced at each other, both of them deeply confused by whatever was going on. 

“I’ve got to write this down!” Pepper shouted. “We need to go back to the Paramour before I forget!” 

Pepper turned around and started walking back to the mansion, and the others followed him. He muttered to himself, “Mama, we all go to hell, mama, we all go to hell, something about writing a letter…hey guys, what rhymes with hell?” 

“Fell?” Youngblood suggested. “Yell? Cell?” 

“No, none of those work…” 

“How about blood?” Revenge said. 

“That doesn’t even rhyme!” Pepper exclaimed. 

“Sell? Well? Dwell?” Youngblood said. 

“Well might work,” Pepper said. “I’m writing this letter and wishing you well…yeah, I like that. I’ll write it down when we get inside.” 

Pepper opened the door and immediately ran into the Heavy Room while the others waited for him in the kitchen. When Pepper came back, he said, “You know what I need right now? Some coffee.” He went to pour himself some coffee, but the pot was empty. “What the fuck?” he said. “Who drank all the coffee?” 

“Figment did it,” Revenge said. 

“Seriously, Figment?!” Pepper shouted, but there was no response. All three of them looked around, but Figment wasn’t even in the room. In fact, none of them had seen him since just after they’d left the Paramour Mansion. 

“Where did Figment go?” Youngblood asked, but neither of his future selves seemed to have an answer.


	14. California 2006

Figment was slowly learning that traveling to the past was like having the worst sense of déjà vu ever. He had just left the Paramour, and he was walking down the streets of Los Angeles with his younger selves. It was all so familiar: the weather, the houses, even the stupid argument that his past selves were having with each other.

“She didn’t judge me when I asked for 52 copies of The Filth,” Pepper said. “I think she can handle it.” 

“What’s The Filth?” Youngblood asked. 

“It’s just a comic by Grant Morrison…” Pepper said. 

“It’s really good!” Revenge interjected. 

“Shut up, I’m trying to talk,” Pepper said. 

Figment tuned them out after a while. None of this mattered, because everything was going according to plan. He had successfully recruited his first three past selves, and soon, he would be back in 2019. He imagined Frank’s arms around him, the warmth of his embrace, the taste of his lips. He couldn’t wait for all of this to be over, to finally get a chance to go home. 

He fell behind the group as he daydreamed about going back to his own time, after everything had been fixed, of course. However, he tried to keep an eye on Pepper, Youngblood, and Revenge. He had to make sure that everything stayed on track. He couldn’t let his younger selves mess this up for him. 

All of a sudden, someone tapped Figment on the shoulder. He turned around, and Ray was there. He froze, unable to imagine what in the world Ray was doing here. He’d been so careful. He thought that the other band members hadn’t seen him when they were going upstairs or when they were trying to leave, but maybe he’d gone wrong somewhere. 

Then again, even if Ray had seen them, maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal. Sure, he’d have some questions, but he could always say that he, Revenge, and Youngblood were family members visiting from out of town. Pepper would back them up. Eventually, Ray would do what most people did when they were confronted with irrefutable evidence of time travel: he’d mull it over and then forget about it. 

“Can I see your license?” Ray asked.

At first, Figment had no idea why Ray would ask that. It took Figment a while to realize what he was really asking for, but when he did figure it out, he decided to play dumb. 

“Like my driver’s license?” he said. Giving Ray his driver’s license might give him away - the issue date was over a decade in the future - but it was better than flat-out admitting that he was a time traveler. 

“No,” Ray said. “Your time travel license.” 

For the first time since he’d left 2019, Figment panicked. This was not what he had planned. He’d suspected that someone close to him was in the Watch, but he’d never thought that it would be Ray. He’d always been so sweet, so innocent, so unassuming. In all of the years that they’d known each other, he’d never once suspected that Ray might know about time travel. He’d thought that they were friends, bandmates, but now, with Ray standing in front of him, asking for his time travel license, he wondered if they’d ever known each other at all. 

He had sworn that the Watch wouldn’t take him alive, that it would be like a bullet through a flock of doves, but in the end, he had no choice but to cooperate. He fumbled through his pocket, pulled out his license, and handed it to Ray. 

“Research Class C, huh?” Ray said as he looked over the time travel license. “And you’re being sponsored by Netflix? The DVD rental service?” 

“Yeah,” Figment said. 

Ray just looked confused. “What exactly are you researching, Gerard?” he asked. 

“Uhh...the band broke up, and I’m collecting Netflix customer data?” He winced as he said it. He couldn’t ever imagine having such a boring job, one where he couldn’t create art with the people he loved. Maybe it wasn’t such a surprise that Ray figured out that he was lying. 

“And you’re doing that through time travel?” Ray said skeptically. 

“Uhh...yeah. Definitely.” 

“I’m afraid that I’m going to need to see your copy of Forms 405A, 405B, and 942D.”

“I don’t have those,” Figment admitted. 

“All holders of a Research Class C license must travel with those forms,” Ray said. “They explain the details of your research project.” 

“I left them in 2019,” Figment said, which was technically true. 

“I hate to do this, Gerard, but I don’t have a choice,” Ray said. “If you don’t have the proper forms, I have to report you to my boss and take you in for questioning.” 

Ray took out a pair of handcuffs, and he clipped them onto Figment’s wrists. “What are you doing?!” he shouted, wild-eyed and furious. “I have a reason to be here! I’ve done nothing wrong, I swear! Ray, you can’t take me! You won’t take me! Frank’s dying, and you’re just going to fucking arrest me? What the fuck is wrong with you?!” 

“I suppose I can add verbally abusing an agent of the Watch to your list of charges, along with time traveling without the proper documentation, traveling for reasons other than those specified by the terms of your license, and God knows what else,” Ray said. He paused and then said, “Before I send you to my boss, I should ask you one more thing. Are there any other versions of you in this era, other than the one that’s supposed to be here?” 

“No,” Figment said. 

“You’re lying,” Ray said. “I can tell.” 

“I’m not lying,” Figment insisted. He looked around for a moment, and thankfully, Revenge, Youngblood, and Pepper had all wandered off. They probably didn’t even realize that Figment was gone yet. They’d saved themselves from the Watch, and Figment promised himself that after he got away from them, he’d find a way back here, and he’d finish his mission. 

Figment wondered what he would do when he got back to 2019. How could he look Ray in the eye after this, knowing that he was in the Watch, that he’d been spying on him all along? Then again, dealing with Ray in the future was the least of his problems right now. He needed to figure out how to get away from the Watch, and he needed to save Frank. 

Ray started typing something into his watch. The time machine looked similar to Figment’s, but there were a few extra buttons on it. Figment wondered what they did, and then he decided that he was probably better off not knowing. “What are you going to do to me, Ray?” he asked. 

Ray didn’t respond. Instead, he put his earpiece on and started talking into it. “Director Armstrong, this is Special Agent Toro,” he said. “I’ve captured a time traveler with improper documentation, likely engaged in illicit activity...yes, it’s Gerard Way...no, it’s not our Gerard. It’s him from the future, he says he’s from 2019...yes, I’ll do that.” 

Ray continued to type, and Figment kept on shouting. “Ray, it’s me! I’m your friend!” he exclaimed. “You don’t have to do this to me! And what about Frank? He’ll die in a bus crash if you don’t let me save him! Ray, don’t do this!” 

“I’m sorry,” Ray whispered as he pushed one last button on his watch, and all of a sudden, Figment was gone.


	15. California 2006

“I’m serious,” Youngblood said as he paced around the Paramour. “What happened to Figment?” 

“I haven’t seen him in a while, but he has to be around here somewhere,” Pepper said. “Maybe we should look for him.” 

Youngblood nodded. He knew that if they couldn’t find Figment, they were all in big trouble. They couldn’t save Frank if he wasn’t there to operate the time machine, and more importantly for Revenge and Youngblood, they couldn’t go back home. Youngblood had no idea what would happen if he got stuck in 2006, but he knew that it couldn’t be good. 

Youngblood, Pepper, and Revenge all started searching for Figment, or more accurately, Youngblood and Pepper looked for him while Revenge raided the band’s movie collection. “Revenge!” Pepper shouted as he tried to put a copy of Revenge of the Sith into the DVD player. “Come help us!” 

“But it’s Star Wars, and this movie hasn’t come out yet, and it has my nickname in the title…” 

“It’s not actually that good,” Pepper said. “The original trilogy is way better.” 

“Then why do you have it?” Revenge asked. 

Pepper didn’t have a good answer, so he tried to change the subject. “Just help us, okay?” he said. “We need to find Figment.” 

“Fine,” Revenge said. 

Youngblood wandered around the mansion, checking every inch of the house for any sign of Figment. However, he was nowhere to be found. Revenge and Pepper didn’t have any luck either. Before long, Youngblood started to worry that something truly horrible had happened to his future self. Back in 2002, Figment had warned him about the Watch and what they might do if they caught him. Maybe they had finally found him. Maybe Youngblood really was stuck in 2006. Then again, Revenge’s existence meant that he must have returned to his own time at some point. Not all hope was lost. 

Pepper, Revenge, and Youngblood met in the kitchen. They had looked in every last corner of the Paramour Mansion, carefully avoiding the other members of My Chemical Romance, yet they still hadn’t found Figment. Now, they needed to decide what to do next. 

“I’m going to make more coffee,” Pepper said, which Youngblood suspected was his future self’s solution to everything. “Does anyone else want some?”

Revenge laughed and said, “I think I’m going to need something a little bit stronger than coffee if I’m going to make it through this.” 

“Absolutely not,” Pepper said. “Youngblood? Do you want some?” 

“Sure,” he said. 

Pepper made some coffee, and when he was done, he opened up a cabinet and pulled out enough mugs for everybody. However, he stopped when he saw something unexpected in the cabinet, hiding in between the rest of the coffee cups. 

“Figment left his coffee mug here,” he said. 

“That’s weird,” Youngblood said. “Why would he do that?” 

“I don’t know,” Pepper said. He carefully took the mug out of the cabinet, and he pressed the button on the side. All of a sudden, it transformed into a high-tech watch. Pepper strapped the time machine onto his wrist, wondering what to do with it. 

“Maybe we could go a few minutes into the past and figure out where Figment went,” Youngblood suggested. 

“Is that even possible?” Pepper asked. “The time machine is supposed to be pretty personalized. If I remember correctly, it’s calibrated to Figment’s brain waves, so it only works for him.” 

“Yeah, but you _are_ Figment!” Revenge exclaimed. “Or you will be, anyways. We’re all the same person, so I don’t see why Figment’s time machine wouldn’t work for us.” 

“You have a good point,” Pepper said. “Maybe we should give it a try, but just going back a few minutes seems like a waste of a great opportunity.” 

“So what are we going to do with it?” Youngblood asked. 

Pepper gave his past selves a sly smile, as if he had just come up with a brilliant idea. “Remember when Figment said that the Watch banned everyone from time traveling to 2007?” he said. Both Revenge and Youngblood nodded. “I want to know what happens next year, especially if it’s bad enough that the Watch is keeping us from going there. I want to go to 2007.” 

Youngblood thought about it. Time traveling to 2007 might be dangerous. After all, something catastrophic must happen in that year if the Watch was keeping people from going there. He couldn’t imagine what it would be, but his curiosity got the better of him. If Pepper was going to 2007, he would go too. 

“I’ll go with you,” Youngblood said. 

“Me too,” Revenge said. “I’ve always wanted to live through an apocalypse.” 

“Great,” Pepper said. “Let’s do it. If I can get the time machine to work right, Figment won’t have to know that we went to 2007. Once we’re back, we can keep looking for him.” 

Pepper looked back at the wristwatch, and he typed in that there were three travelers. Then, the time machine asked him for a place. “Where are we going, exactly?” he asked the others. 

“Let’s go somewhere fun,” Youngblood said. “Japan, maybe? I’ve always wanted to go there.” 

“I’ve already been,” Revenge said. “Let’s go to Scotland. If the world’s ending, I might as well go hang out with Grant Morrison.” 

“That’s not a bad idea,” Youngblood said. 

“I don’t know,” Pepper said. “I’m thinking about going home to New Jersey.”

“That’s boring,” Youngblood said. 

“Yeah, it is,” Revenge said. “Let’s go somewhere cool.” 

“Colorado?” Pepper suggested. 

“Yeah, because the end of the world is a great time to go skiing,” Revenge said sarcastically. 

“I’m fine with that,” Youngblood said. 

“Revenge?” Pepper said. “Does Colorado work?” 

“I guess so,” he said. 

Pepper typed “Colorado” into the time machine, and when it asked for the year, he typed “2007.” He pushed one more button, and for a moment, nothing happened. The three Gerards just stood in the kitchen, waiting for the time machine to take them to the apocalypse. 

“Is it working?” Youngblood asked. 

Pepper said, “I don’t…” 

Before he could finish his sentence, they were gone.


	16. California 2006

When Figment opened his eyes, he was alone in a dark, sparsely decorated room. “What the fuck did you do to me, Ray?” he shouted, but all he could hear was the echo of his own voice. “Where am I? When am I?” 

All of a sudden, the door opened, and a man with green eyes and dyed black hair walked in. Figment recognized him immediately. “Billie Joe Armstrong?” he said. “What are you doing here?” 

“I’ll answer all your questions,” Billie said. “You’re at the Watch Headquarters for questioning, which I believe Special Agent Toro already told you. It’s still January 24, 2006, although it’s a few hours later than it was when Ray captured you. He’s going to get a nice pay raise for that, by the way. I might even make him a Senior Special Agent. Anyways, I asked Ray to send you forward a few hours, since I’m kind of busy today…” 

“Seriously?” Figment said. “You made me skip over the last few hours just because you were busy?” 

“Y’know, you should see my caseload,” Billie said. “I really needed some time to catch up. Oh, and I’m here because I’m the Director of the Watch.” 

“That’s...that’s insane,” Figment said. 

No, not Figment. There was no need for a nickname, not in this place. Here, he was all alone. Here, he was just Gerard. 

“Well, I’m really only in charge of the North American division, and I don’t bother with anything outside of the late 20th and early 21st centuries,” Billie said. “I’m a little too busy with Green Day for that.” He approached Gerard and then took off his handcuffs. “I don’t know why Ray bothered with these. I’m pretty sure you’re not dangerous.” 

“I’m not,” Gerard insisted. He still couldn’t quite believe that Ray and Billie were both in the Watch. For all he knew, all of his friends could secretly be spying on him. “Is anyone else I know in the Watch?” he asked Billie, as if he would actually tell him the truth. 

“I don’t think so,” Billie said. 

“Is Ellen Page in the Watch?” Gerard asked. He was pretty sure that she was, but he just had to make sure. 

“The kid from X-Men?” Billie said. “No, she’s not.” There was a brief period of awkward silence, and then Billie said, “So you’re from 2019, huh? You’ve changed an awful lot, but I suppose thirteen years is a long time. Ooh, can you tell me what I’m doing in 2019?” 

“You’re working on your thirteenth album, and you’re going on a tour with Fall Out Boy and Weezer next year,” Gerard said. “Also, people still make jokes about waking Green Day up when September ends and you still get unnecessarily mad about it, you’re way too nice to Billie Eilish just because you happen to have the same name as her, and you still think that you’re more punk rock than you actually are.” 

“Yeah, that all sounds like me,” Billie said. “Y’know, I remember when Green Day and My Chemical Romance went on tour last year. That was so much fun, wasn’t it?”

Gerard thought back on that tour. For him, that had all happened a long time ago, but he did remember having a good time. “Yeah, it was,” he said. 

“It’s a shame that we had to meet again like this,” Billie said. “So what exactly are you doing here? And don’t give that story about collecting customer data for Netflix, because both Ray and I know it’s bullshit.” 

Gerard told him the truth, or at least most of it. “Frank died in a bus crash in 2016, and I’m trying to save him,” he said. “I needed to talk to the version of me from this era to make sure that it doesn’t happen.” 

“That’s not going to work,” Billie said. “Time is inevitable. If you succeed, then you would have felt the effects of your time travel all along. You would remember Frank surviving the crash. Therefore, there is no point in allowing you to travel, because you will inevitably fail.” Billie paused to think, and then he said, “Or will you? You could be lying to me. Maybe Frank will survive the crash, or maybe the crash won’t happen at all, and if Frank is only alive because of your intervention, then I have no choice but to let you go...”

He started typing something into his watch, which was even fancier than Ray’s. “I’m going to the future to find someone who can verify your story,” he said. “I’ll be back.” 

Gerard blinked, and Billie was back, but he’d brought someone with him. She was in her twenties, and she had brown skin and bright green hair. Gerard knew that he’d never seen her before, but somehow, her brown eyes and sharp jawline looked familiar. 

“So is this the suspect?” the woman asked Billie in an accent that Gerard couldn’t quite identify. 

“Yeah, this is Gerard Way,” Billie said. “Gerard, this is…” 

“Sheena Way-Velasquez,” she interrupted as she shook Gerard’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” 

“She’s the Director of the Watch in 2242,” Billie said. 

“Sheena Way-Velasquez,” Gerard said. “Are we…” 

“Related?” Sheena interrupted. “Billie asked me that when we first met, and I did some research, and it turns out that Mikey Way is my great-great-great-grandfather. Or something like that. Maybe there’s another ‘great’ in there.” 

While Gerard tried to process that information, Billie asked, “Hey Sheena, could you do me a huge favor?” 

“Depends,” Sheena said. “What is it?” 

“Could you go back to your time and tell me when Frank Iero died?” 

“Sure.” Sheena as she started typing something in her watch. 

She disappeared, but in the blink of an eye, she was back. “I don’t know,” she said. 

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t know?’” Gerard said angrily. 

“I searched around in the info cloud, but there’s no record of a person named Frank Iero ever existing,” Sheena said. 

“That’s not possible,” Gerard said. “I know Frank exists.” 

Sheena shrugged. “It’s common for people born more than 200 years ago not to have records,” she said. “A lot of documents from the 20th and 21st centuries were destroyed in the Second American Revolution.” 

“But you know that you’re descended from Mikey…” 

“And do you realize how hard it was for me to find that information?” Sheena said. “I never would have known that if I wasn’t in the Watch. I’m sorry you two, but I’m not going to be able to help. It’s just too far in the past.” 

Gerard glared at Billie. “Couldn’t you have found someone who’s a little closer to our time?” he said. “Or even better, couldn’t you just take my word for it?” 

“The first rule of the Watch is to never trust anyone,” Billie said. “Well, actually, that’s not true. The first rule of the Watch is you do not talk about the Watch, the second rule of the Watch is you do _not_ talk about the Watch…” 

“Isn’t that Fight Club?” Gerard asked. 

“Whatever. It’s all the same thing.” 

“No, it’s really not.”

“Anyways, I’ve met almost every single one of my successors at some point, and Sheena’s the only one I trust,” Billie said. “I can’t even trust myself. Y’know, a future version of me showed up while Green Day was working on Cigarettes and Valentines, and he said that the album would go straight to #1. The very next day, our master tapes were stolen! I couldn’t even ask myself about this, Gerard. How would I know that he’s not lying to me, like he lied about the album? We’re just going to have to accept that Frank Iero is a Schrodinger.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“We can’t tell whether Frank’s alive or dead in 2016,” Billie said. “So there’s no way for me to know whether or not you’re telling the truth.” 

“So what’s going to happen next?” Gerard asked. 

“I’ll tell you in a minute, but Sheena, before you go, could you tell me if there’s anything important that happens in the next few years?” 

“Uhh...let me think,” Sheena said. “The next major event in the Watch is you kicking Mark Hoppus out for using time travel to take credit for band reunions. It was one of your greatest achievements as Director of the Watch, along with stopping the Time Thief, reforming the licensing program, and composing American Idiot. Although these days, most people only know the first few notes of that song.” 

“Mark Hoppus is in the Watch?” Gerard said. “Billie, you told me nobody else I knew was in it! You lied to me!” 

Billie shrugged and asked Sheena, “Which bands got back together?”, because unlike Gerard, he had his priorities straight. 

“The Jonas Brothers, Motion City Soundtrack, My Chemical Romance…” 

“Wait a second,” Billie said. “Gerard, did MCR break up?” 

“Yeah, in 2013,” Gerard answered. In this case, there was no harm in telling the truth. 

“And you got back together?” 

“Yes, earlier this year,” Gerard said. 

“I’m confused,” Billie said. “How did you get back together if Frank died? Did you get a new guitarist or something?” 

Both Billie and Sheena looked at Gerard expectantly, but he didn’t say anything. “You’re lying to me, aren’t you?” Billie finally said to him. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’m sure it’s nothing good.”

Gerard considered speaking up, but in the end, he kept quiet. There was nothing that he could say that would help his case, no lie that he could tell, nothing he could do to save himself. 

“I wish I could help you, Gerard,” Billie said. “I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, but even if your story is true, the Watch can’t just let people go back in time to save their loved ones from dying. Can you imagine the chaos that would ensue if we just let everyone do that?” 

“Don’t you have people that you would want to save?” Gerard said. “Like your father?”

“Don’t you dare talk to me about my dad!” Billie shouted. He took a deep breath and then said, “Gerard, I’m going to have to confiscate your time machine and send you back to 2019. You won’t be able to time travel, but be thankful that I’m not punishing you any further.” 

“But...you can’t!” Gerard shouted. “I need to save Frank!” 

Billie didn’t listen as he grabbed Gerard’s wrist. However, he saw that his wristwatch was gone. “What the fuck did you do with your time machine?” he asked. Gerard didn’t answer. “Answer me, you nimrod! What did you do with it?!”

Sheena sighed and said, “I think my work here is done, so I’m heading back to my own time. See you around, Billie.” 

She opened the door to the room, and all of a sudden, Gerard broke free of Billie’s grip and sprinted away. As Sheena typed something into her watch and vanished, he just kept running until he had left the Watch Headquarters behind. Thankfully, he was still in LA, so all he had to do was find the Paramour Mansion and leave this era before the Watch found him again. 

They were never going to get him, like a bullet through a flock of doves.


	17. Colorado 2007

When Youngblood opened his eyes, he was surprised to find that the world hadn’t ended yet. It was late at night, and thankfully, Revenge and Pepper were still by his side, taking it all in with him. They were at a music venue of some sort, but judging by the thousands of people filing out of the amphitheater, the show was already over. He tried to eavesdrop on a few of their conversations, and he heard a lot about Linkin Park, but there were also some people talking about My Chemical Romance. 

“I guess we’re still touring, even in the apocalypse,” Pepper said. 

“Maybe this isn’t the apocalypse,” Youngblood said. 

“That would be lame,” Revenge said. “Wasn’t that the whole reason we came here?”

All of a sudden, a fan walked up to them. “You guys dressed up as Gerard Way?” she said. “That’s so cool! Like, where did you get that Black Parade jacket? It looks so real!” 

All three of them ignored her and walked away. Once they were far enough away from the fans not to attract any attention, they started talking again. “We’ve got to figure out what’s going on,” Pepper said to his younger selves. “It doesn’t seem like the Watch stopped us from coming here, and there doesn’t seem to be anything obviously wrong with this time. Maybe we got the year wrong or something.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Revenge said. “It’s cool that MCR is playing Projekt Revolution though.” 

Youngblood hadn’t thought about Projekt Revolution, but it made a lot of sense. It seemed like whenever he time traveled, he found his band getting bigger and bigger. He had never set out to be famous - in fact, he was always surprised that people wanted to listen to My Chemical Romance at all - and he wasn’t sure how he felt about where his band was going in the future. He loved making art, but he didn’t think that he ever wanted to be a star. 

“Maybe we could find the version of me from this era,” Pepper suggested. “He’ll know what to do.” 

“Or we could do something that’s actually fun,” Revenge said. “Like setting this stage on fire or killing all our friends.” 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Pepper asked. When Revenge didn’t respond, he said, “Come on, guys. Let’s see if we can get some answers.” 

Revenge and Youngblood followed Pepper as he headed toward the stage. By that point, most of the fans had left, so it wasn’t too hard for them to get backstage. Even the security guards were gone, so all Pepper had to do was open the door and make sure that nobody saw them. 

There were maybe thirty or forty people gathered backstage, and thankfully, none of them seemed to notice Youngblood, Revenge, or Pepper as they walked in. Youngblood quickly spotted Ray, Bob, and Mikey, all sitting together in the same row, but Frank was mysteriously absent. 

Pepper smiled and whispered, “At least Mikey’s doing better. It’s weird seeing him without his glasses though. I wonder what happened to them.” 

“Yeah, but where’s Frank?” Revenge asked. 

“I don’t know,” Pepper said fearfully. The world may not have ended yet, but Frank’s absence was definitely a bad sign. All three of them stayed back as they assessed the situation, hoping that nobody would notice them in the meantime. 

It didn’t take them long to figure out what was going on. One of the touring staff members said, “Dearly beloved and honored guests, we are here to celebrate the marriage of Gerard Way and…” 

“Did we accidentally crash our own wedding?” Pepper whispered. 

“I think so,” Youngblood responded. 

“Weddings are the worst,” Revenge complained. “We should crash our own funeral instead.” 

“That would be fun,” Youngblood said. 

“Alright, all in favor of leaving the wedding and attending our own funeral instead, raise your hands!” 

All three Gerards raised their hands. However, Pepper said, “I want to see what happens after we die, but Figment might kill us, and we have no idea what year we would need to go to anyways.” 

“What if we jump around in the future until we figure it out?” Revenge suggested. 

“Maybe, but what if the time machine stops working?” Pepper said. “Then we’ll be stuck in the future with no way out.” 

They kept bickering, but Youngblood stopped listening to his older selves. As much as he would have rather been at his own funeral, he watched the wedding. He glanced toward the front of the room, where there was the staff member who was acting as the officiant, his future self, and a woman that he didn’t recognize. “Gerard, do you take Lindsey Ballato to be your lawfully wedded wife?” 

The Gerard from 2007 didn’t look too different from Pepper, but he had grown out his hair and dyed it black again. “I do,” he said, without a second thought. 

“Lindsey, do you take Gerard Way to be your lawfully wedded husband?” 

Youngblood glanced at his future wife. She was ridiculously hot, but beyond that, he couldn’t make any judgments. He didn’t know her, and it didn’t look like Revenge or Pepper knew her either. “I do,” she said. 

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant said. “You may kiss the bride.” 

2007 Gerard passionately kissed Lindsey, and everyone applauded. Youngblood found it all a bit surreal, watching his future self kiss this mysterious woman, just like Youngblood had kissed Frank right before Figment found him. As strange as it all was, he decided that he was lucky. In five years, he would be the lead singer of a successful rock band, he would have a great group of friends, and he would be married to one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. He would truly have it all. 

Then, he wondered where Frank was, and he asked himself whether having it all was worth losing him. 

“I can’t watch this anymore,” Pepper whispered. As he started to walk away, Revenge and Youngblood ran after him.

“Are you okay?” Revenge asked. 

“What do you think?” Pepper said. “Of course I’m not okay!”

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Youngblood said. “Let’s be honest - Lindsey is pretty damn sexy.” 

“Yes, but that’s not the point,” Pepper said. “I love Frank. He and I have been together for three and a half years, and he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I wouldn’t trade him for the world, but by next year, I’m going to abandon him for some girl named Lindsey.” 

“Maybe he breaks up with you,” Revenge said. 

“That seems unlike him,” Pepper said. 

All of them went outside, and as Youngblood breathed in the fresh air, he looked around the venue. It was completely empty now, but he could still hear some people cheering and partying backstage, and in the distance, he heard someone sobbing. 

The backstage door opened, and Ray suddenly walked outside. Pepper, Youngblood, and Revenge hid underneath a row of chairs. Thankfully, he didn’t see any of them. Youngblood watched him carefully, wondering where he could possibly be going at this time of night. He watched Ray slowly walk along the edge of the lawn until he came to a bench. Frank was there, crying, and Ray sat down next to him. 

“Hey Frank,” he said. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m just very happy for Gerard,” Frank said in between sobs. “You know, getting married and all that.” 

Mentioning Gerard’s marriage only made him cry more, so Ray passed him a tissue. “Listen Frank, I understand if you’re upset,” he said. “You have every reason to be.” 

“I’m not in love with Gerard,” he insisted as he tried to dry his eyes. “I know everyone thinks that, but we’re just friends.” 

“Sure, whatever you say,” Ray said. “I know the wedding was sudden for all of us - Gerard didn’t even tell me he was getting married until an hour before it happened - and I don’t think you should deny whatever feelings you have about it.” 

“I’m only crying because I’m happy for him,” Frank said, but he then went back to bawling his eyes out. 

“Frank, listen to me,” Ray said. “Whatever happened between you and Gerard is your business, but I want you to know that I’m here for you. If you need anything, just let me know.” 

Frank paused and then quietly said, “I need Gerard to come back.” 

He started crying again, and Ray gave him a hug. “It’s going to be okay, Frank,” he said as he embraced his heartbroken bandmate. “Trust me.” 

“I miss him so much,” Frank said. 

“I know you do,” Ray said as he let go of Frank and gave him another tissue. “I think I’m going to go back to the wedding, but take care of yourself, okay?” 

Frank nodded and dried his eyes, but he still looked miserable. As Ray walked away, he sat on the bench, all alone. Youngblood felt terrible as he watched Frank stare into the distance, lonely and unloved, grieving for his broken relationship. He wished that he could walk up to him and make all of his worries go away, but that would blow his cover. 

The sobbing started again, but this time, it was Pepper who was crying. “What’s wrong?” Youngblood asked his future self. 

“I can’t believe that I did that to him!” Pepper exclaimed, trying to stifle his tears. “I’m going to break Frank’s heart next year. I’m going to make him cry, and there’s nothing I can do about it.” 

“Maybe we had a good reason for it?” Revenge suggested. 

“But why would I ever dump Frank?” Pepper asked. “He’s perfect for me, and I love him. I would never leave him, no matter what.” 

“What if he stole your comic books?” Revenge said. 

“Okay, I might leave him if that happened,” Pepper admitted. “But Frank wouldn’t do that.” 

“You’re right. He wouldn’t,” Revenge said. 

“He’s too nice for that,” Youngblood added. 

Pepper paused and then said, “Even if I did have a good reason for it, I can’t imagine leaving Frank and then marrying someone else right away. I can’t believe I have it in me to do something like that, to hurt Frank that badly.” He looked around to make sure that nobody else could see them, and when he was sure that there was no one there, he said, “Let’s go home. I swear, when I get back to 2006, I’m going to buy Frank a new puppy or something…” 

“I think he’d like that a lot,” Youngblood said. 

“But does he really need another dog?” Revenge said. “He already has too many.” 

“This is Frank we’re talking about,” Pepper said. “I’d give him anything if it would make him happy.” The three of them started walking as Pepper started to type into his wristwatch. “Maybe Figment was right,” he said, mostly to himself. “We shouldn’t have come here.” 

“Yeah, I think I was better off not knowing how my relationship with Frank was going to end,” Revenge said. 

Youngblood followed his future selves, but he couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. His wedding day was supposed to be the happiest day of his life, but how could it be when he’d wrecked his relationship with Frank? Out of all of his friends, Frank was the only one who understood him, who cared about the same things he did, who loved him unconditionally. He wanted to do the same for him. He wanted to have a real relationship with him, to make beautiful music, see the world, and fall in love. His future selves had given him hope, made him believe that such a thing was possible, but here, he was just the only friend who made him cry. 

All of a sudden, Youngblood bumped into someone. He looked up, and he saw the version of him from 2007. “Sorry,” he said to his future self. “I didn’t mean to bump into you.” 

“I don’t remember inviting you to the wedding,” 2007 Gerard said. 

“Youngblood, come on!” Pepper shouted. Youngblood ran over to Revenge and Pepper, and Pepper quickly finished typing into the watch. Suddenly, they all vanished into thin air, leaving behind the future that none of them wanted.


	18. California 2006

When Youngblood opened his eyes, he was back at the Paramour Mansion, standing in the kitchen with Pepper and Revenge. Pepper stayed there for a while, looking disoriented, while Revenge went into the living room, sat on the couch, and moped. Youngblood poured himself a cup of coffee, and he thought about everything that had just happened. Not for the first time, he wished that he had his sketchbook with him. Maybe he could tease apart his racing thoughts if he could draw them out. Maybe he wouldn’t have this flurry of emotions: fear, sadness, and above all, regret. He wasn’t sure that he regretted marrying Lindsey, whoever she was, but he definitely wished that his future self hadn’t broken Frank’s heart. Then again, could he really regret something that he hadn’t done yet? 

He thought about Frank and all of the memories they’d made together. He thought of him coming to every My Chemical Romance show, the days they’d spent together designing T-shirts, his beautiful hazel eyes, the tattoos on his skin, the way he’d felt when he kissed him. He thought about how Revenge and Pepper smiled whenever they mentioned Frank, how their faces seemed to light up when he walked into the room, how they seemed so in love with him. Youngblood decided that the answer was a resounding yes. He could always regret hurting Frank, even if he hadn’t done it yet. 

The three Gerards stayed quiet for a while, but Pepper was the first to break the silence. “That was weird,” he said as he adjusted his black marching band jacket. 

“Yeah, I know,” Revenge said. 

“It was like the time machine glitched or something,” Pepper said. 

Revenge and Youngblood looked at each other in confusion. “Glitched?” Youngblood said. 

“Yeah,” Pepper said. “I typed in that we were going to Colorado in 2007, but we just ended up here again. The time machine must not have worked, but I guess that makes sense. It’s probably just because the Watch doesn’t let people go to 2007. Anyways, we should figure out where Figment went. Do you guys have any ideas?” 

Now, Youngblood and Revenge were even more confused. “Pepper, we went to 2007,” Youngblood said.

“We did?” Pepper said.

“Yeah,” Revenge said. “My Chemical Romance was playing at Projekt Revolution, and backstage…backstage...you were...”

Revenge couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence, so Youngblood did it for him. “You were getting married to some woman named Lindsey.” 

“I don’t know anyone named Lindsey,” Pepper said. 

“I know! That’s the problem!” Revenge exclaimed. 

“And then we found Frank crying about it after the ceremony,” Youngblood said. “Apparently the version of us from 2007 left him and then married Lindsey really quickly afterwards.” 

“That’s horrible! I would never do that!” Pepper exclaimed. “You guys must be making this up just to mess with me.” 

“We’re not,” Revenge and Youngblood said simultaneously. Youngblood wished that they were making it up, that this was all just a bad dream, but it felt so real. He knew that it had actually happened, that this was his future. 

“This is bad,” Pepper said. “Why don’t I remember any of this happening?”

“I don’t know,” Youngblood said. “I remember it all pretty clearly.” 

“Me too, although I wish I didn’t,” Revenge said. 

“How could I forget something like that?” Pepper asked. “I feel like I’d remember crashing my own wedding. What the hell is wrong with me?” 

“I don’t know,” Youngblood said. “Maybe we can ask Figment when we find him. He would probably know why Pepper doesn’t remember anything.” 

“Yeah, but then he’ll know that we went to 2007,” Revenge said. 

“That’s true,” Youngblood said. “He’ll be mad if he finds out about that.” 

“I’m scared,” Pepper said. “If you’re not just messing with me, and you’re telling the truth, then I’m going to break up with Frank next year. I don’t want to do that. I love him so much.” 

“I love him too,” Revenge said. 

As much as Youngblood liked listening to his older selves gush about their relationship with Frank, they needed to stay focused. “Hey, don’t you guys think we should be looking for Figment?” he said. 

“That guy’s such a killjoy,” Revenge said. “We’re better off without him.” 

“We can’t save Frank unless we have Figment,” Youngblood said.

“We have his time machine. We could just go to 2016 ourselves and make the deal with the devil that I suggested earlier.” 

“And leave Figment stranded in 2006?” 

“Serves him right for taking my vodka away.” 

“I agree with Youngblood,” Pepper chimed in. “We need to find Figment. We can’t just leave him here, even if he is annoying and cryptic sometimes. Let’s take one last look around the house, and then we’ll try to retrace our steps.” 

“That won’t work,” Youngblood said. “It’s been two hours since we last saw him. He could be anywhere by now.” 

“I’ve got an idea,” Revenge said. “We could summon him!” 

“Summon him?” Pepper said, confused. 

“Let’s see...we’re going to need a pentagram, a knife...AND CANDLES!” Revenge shouted. “I NEED CANDLES! WHERE CAN I FIND MORE CANDLES?” 

Pepper and Youngblood looked at each other in confusion. “I don’t know,” Pepper finally said. “Why do you need them?” 

“What kind of a question is that?” Revenge said as he climbed upstairs to look for more candles. “I need them to summon Figment, obviously. I don’t really want to do it - as I said, we’re better off without him - but you guys insisted that we can’t just leave him behind, and I’ve always wanted to use this spell…” 

“I still don’t get it,” Youngblood said. To be completely honest, he had been confused ever since he’d left 2002. A part of him couldn’t wait until this was all over and he could go home. 

“Nevermind,” Revenge said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

While they waited for Revenge to come back, Youngblood sipped his coffee, and Pepper continued to panic over his lost memories. “Why don’t I remember going to 2007? That seems like something I should remember!” he said. “Youngblood, are you sure that the time machine didn’t glitch?” 

“I’m sure,” he said. 

“And you’re sure I was there with you and Revenge?” 

“Yeah, you were definitely there. You were really depressed about the version of us from 2007 breaking up with Frank.” 

“I imagine that I would be. That’s just horrible. Why the hell would I do something like that?” 

Youngblood was about to say something when Revenge came back downstairs with a fresh coat of red eye makeup, a Ouija board, and too many candles to count. “Did you really need the Ouija board?” Pepper asked. “We have too many ghosts in this house as it is.” 

“It’s for summoning Figment,” Revenge said. 

“Ouija boards are for communicating with the dead, and Figment’s not dead,” Pepper said. 

“I sure hope he’s not,” Youngblood said. He’d long since accepted that he would die one day, that his brief, meaningless existence would come to an end. If he died alone, then so be it, but dying while time traveling seemed like a particularly awful way to go. 

“He’s probably dead on the inside,” Revenge said. “Like me.” 

“You’re not dead, you just dress that way,” Pepper said. 

All of a sudden, the door opened, and the three of them quickly looked for somewhere to hide. However, they soon realized that they had no reason to panic. Figment was back. 

“Hey Figment, we were looking for you!” Youngblood said. “Where have you…” 

“We don’t have time for this,” Figment interrupted as he frantically locked the door. He then looked straight at Pepper. “I see you found my time machine.” 

Pepper took off his watch and handed it to Figment. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We found it in the cabinet, and we just wanted to try it out. Apparently, we went to 2007, although I don’t remember it.” 

“You went to 2007?” Figment said. “That was the one year I specifically told you not to go to!” 

“Is it really banned by the Watch?” Youngblood asked. “They didn’t stop us from going there, and there weren’t any obvious problems.” 

“Other than the future version of us breaking up with Frank,” Revenge added. 

“I said, we don’t have time for this,” Figment said as he quickly typed something into his watch. “We need to leave this era now. The Watch is after us.” 

Youngblood’s eyes opened wide when he heard that. He wondered what they had done to attract the attention of the Watch. Was this their punishment for going to 2007? Maybe the Watch had some way of telling that he, Pepper, and Revenge had just returned from a year that they weren’t allowed to go to, or maybe they were chasing them for some other reason. He wished that Figment would just tell him what was going on. 

Youngblood heard a knock on the door, and he panicked. Meanwhile, Figment started typing faster. As he entered information into his watch, Youngblood glanced at his hand. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. 

Youngblood wasn’t quite sure what to make of this information, but he didn’t have much time to think. The knocking grew louder, and Figment pressed the last few buttons on the time machine. Only Figment knew where exactly they were going, but nevertheless, they disappeared.


	19. France 1430

They landed in the middle of a cobblestone street lined with squat stone houses. Occasionally, someone walked by, usually stopping for a moment to stare at the four of them. In the distance, Youngblood swore that he saw a castle. He gazed across this unfamiliar landscape, but he still had no idea where Figment could have possibly taken them. Revenge and Pepper looked equally confused. “Where are we?” Youngblood finally asked. 

“Orléans, France, and the year is 1430,” Figment said. He shrugged and then added, “I wanted to meet Joan of Arc.” 

“What if the Watch finds us?” Pepper asked. 

“I think we’ll be okay,” Figment said. “We’ll wait here for a little while, and once we’re sure that it’s safe, we’ll get back to business. In the meantime, maybe I’ll get to meet one of my favorite historical figures!” 

“That would be cool,” Pepper said. “Joan of Arc was a total badass.” 

“I know, right?” Youngblood said. 

Meanwhile, Revenge had gotten distracted. “Hey, I found a tavern!” he exclaimed. “Can I…” 

“Absolutely not,” Figment said before he could even finish his sentence. 

Revenge didn’t listen. He opened the door to the tavern and went inside. At first, nothing out of the ordinary happened. The tavern was mostly empty, with only a few medieval peasants inside, but before long, all of them were talking about the young man with the jet black hair and the painted face. Pepper poked his head inside and said, “Revenge, get back out here. You’re drawing too much attention.” 

“So?” Revenge said. 

Pepper was about to say something, but all of a sudden, Billie Joe Armstrong appeared inside the tavern. Youngblood was more than a little bit starstruck. He’d always wanted to meet Billie, although he had no idea what the Green Day singer was doing in medieval France. 

“Oh hey Billie,” Pepper said. 

“You’re friends with Billie Joe Armstrong?” Revenge said. 

“Yeah, we toured together last year,” Pepper said. 

“That’s so cool,” Youngblood said. As ambivalent as he was about how famous My Chemical Romance would become, he couldn’t wait to go on tour with Green Day. That would be like a dream come true. 

“That’s enough chit-chat,” Billie said. “You’re all coming with me. Y’know, I thought there might be more than one of you running around, but I didn’t think there would be four of you in the same place at the same time...” 

While Billie talked, Figment quickly typed something into his wristwatch. Youngblood wasn’t sure what Billie was up to, but he knew that he’d never take him alive. 

In an instant, all of the time travelers were gone, leaving the people in the tavern even more confused than they already were. Maybe it was magic or witchcraft or an act of God, but all of them were sure that they had seen something extraordinary, even if nobody could figure out exactly what it was.


	20. North Carolina 2455

“So where are we this time?” Youngblood asked. It was raining, and they were surrounded by brightly-lit skyscrapers. Instead of people walking by, he saw robots patrolling the streets. 

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Figment said. “I typed something random into the time machine so that we could get away from Billie.” 

“Let me get this straight,” Youngblood said. “Billie Joe Armstrong is in the Watch?” 

“He’s not just in the Watch,” Figment said. “He’s the Director.” 

All of them went silent for a moment, trying to process this information. “But I’m friends with him!” Pepper exclaimed. 

“That doesn’t change the fact that he’s trying to take away my time machine and send me back to 2019,” Figment said. 

“But if he does that, then we won’t be able to save Frank,” Youngblood said. 

“Exactly,” Figment said. 

All of a sudden, Billie appeared again, this time holding a pair of handcuffs. “I don’t want to do this to you, Gerard, but you have to go back to your own time.” 

“Figment!” Youngblood shouted. “Do something!” 

Figment quickly typed something into his time machine, and again, they all vanished into thin air.


	21. England 1969

“Are we in London?” Youngblood said as he looked around. He swore he saw Big Ben across the river, and he hoped that they could stay here for a little while. He wanted to explore, but he knew that Billie could appear at any minute. 

“I don’t know, but I think so,” Figment said. He kept one hand on his wristwatch, just in case they had to leave again. 

All four of them looked around, but Billie was nowhere to be found. “You know, I’m still impressed that I managed to summon Figment,” Revenge said. 

“Summon me?” Figment said, confused. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Pepper said. “It was just a coincidence that Figment happened to walk in while you were setting up the Ouija board.” 

“I thought Ouija boards were for communicating with the dead,” Figment said. 

“That’s what I told him!” 

All of a sudden, Billie appeared again. “You’re making this too easy, Gerard,” he said. 

Figment frantically typed something into the time machine, and as he disappeared, Youngblood desperately hoped that this time, they would finally escape Billie.


	22. Nigeria 21642

They went from place to place, era to era…


	23. Texas 1884

...but no matter where they went, Billie followed them.


	24. Argentina 243551998 BCE

Still, Figment never gave up.


	25. Mexico 5606 BCE

They were never going to get him.


	26. Mozambique 1518

Like a bullet through a flock of doves.


	27. China 613 BCE

Youngblood took a deep breath, but when he looked around, Billie was nowhere to be found. Figment froze for a moment, his hand still on his wristwatch, but eventually, even he relaxed. “I think we lost him,” he said. 

“Thank God,” Youngblood said. 

“Hey Figment, I have a quick question,” Pepper said. “Why don’t I remember…” 

“Just wait one second, Pepper,” Figment said as he typed something into his time machine. “We’re going to get back on track, and then I’ll answer your question, okay?” 

Pepper groaned and then said, “Fine, but I really want to know why I don’t remember going to 2007, but Revenge and Youngblood do.” 

“Maybe Figment doesn’t know,” Revenge said. 

“He has to know!” Pepper exclaimed. “What are we going to do if he doesn’t?” 

“Can you two please shut up?” Figment said as he kept on typing. “I need to focus.” 

He pressed a few more buttons, and then all four of them disappeared.


	28. California 2010

Youngblood barely had time to register where he was, because when they arrived, Billie was already there. He had a self-satisfied look on his face as Figment frantically typed something into his watch. 

“You can’t outrun me forever, Gerard,” Billie said as he grabbed Figment’s wrist and tried to take off his watch. Youngblood wanted to do something to help, but Pepper got there first. He charged toward Billie and punched him in the face, and as Billie held a hand to his bruised jaw, Figment finished typing the information into his time machine. They got away once again.


	29. Russia 2189

“Pepper, that was amazing,” Revenge said, in awe of his future self. 

Pepper shrugged. “If he’d taken Figment’s time machine, then we wouldn’t be able to save Frank,” he said. “I...I can’t imagine living without him.” 

Figment was quiet for a moment, carefully surveying their surroundings. They were in a warehouse in a small, nearly abandoned town, and they were alone. Still, he couldn’t take his hand off of the time machine just yet, not until they were sure that Billie hadn’t followed them. 

As it turned out, his instincts were right. At that very moment, the building caught on fire, and when the four Gerards ran for the door, Billie was there. They didn’t have much of a choice. They could burn alive, or they could let Billie arrest them. Either way, there was no saving Frank now, unless Figment could get them out of there before they all died in the fire. 

Figment typed furiously, but Youngblood worried that it might not be enough. The fire was still raging, and for a moment, he was certain that he would die in this place. He thought of his last breath, his body turning to ashes, how he would be here, alone, with no one to mourn him. 

Figment pressed the last button, and they escaped at the last possible second. The flames kept coming, but the four Gerards were gone.


	30. Iowa 1925

They were silent for a long time as they stood in the middle of a corn field, wondering if Billie would make an appearance. However, he didn’t come. It seemed like he was finally gone. 

Figment let out a sigh of relief as he took his hand off of his time machine. “Listen up,” he said. “We’re going to 2010, and we’re going to find the version of us from that time, but we’re going to have to be careful, okay? We can’t let the Watch find us.” 

“No guarantees,” Revenge said.

“Shut up, Revenge,” Pepper said. “We’ll be careful.” 

Figment typed something into his time machine, and they disappeared one more time.


	31. California 2010

They landed in the desert, and the first thing Youngblood noticed was that it was boiling hot. He considered taking off his leather jacket, something that he never did, just to get some relief from the scorching heat. He looked around, but Billie wasn’t there. They were alone, or so he thought. 

“We did it,” Pepper said as he looked around. “We escaped the Watch.” 

“We still have to be careful,” Figment reminded everyone. “I think Billie gave up on us, but there could be someone else from the Watch.” 

“Who else could there be?” Youngblood asked. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.” 

Figment pointed to a spot in the distance, and that was when Youngblood saw them. They were riding around in a Trans Am with a giant spider painted on the hood, and they were firing brightly colored ray guns into the distance. He recognized everyone in the car, but they all looked a little bit different. Mikey had dyed his hair again, Ray was wearing the same jacket that he’d worn at the album release party, and Frank had gotten even more tattoos, but the Gerard from this era had undergone the most startling transformation. He’d dyed his hair bright red, and he was wearing a blue jacket and white jeans. There were a few other people here too, and most of them were busy filming the Trans Am. 

“I have so many questions,” Pepper said. “Like, what happened to Bob?” 

“He left the band earlier this year,” Figment said. 

“That sucks,” Pepper complained. 

Figment shrugged and said, “It all worked out in the end. Jarrod’s awesome.” 

“Who’s Jarrod?” 

“Our new drummer,” Figment said. “Although if I remember correctly, he doesn’t start touring with us for another year or two.” 

“So who’s our drummer right now?” 

“Mike Pedicone,” Figment said, as if his name was some nasty disease. 

“What’s wrong with Mike Pedicone?” Pepper asked, but Figment didn’t respond. 

Youngblood didn’t particularly care about their conversation. He still missed Matt, and he still couldn’t quite believe that he would leave My Chemical Romance after only a few years. As he thought of his friends back in 2002, he turned back toward the music video set. He was fairly sure that was what it was, anyways. He couldn’t think of any other reason for the cameras. It seemed like they were wrapping up, and he heard the band members bantering with each other, although he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. 

All of a sudden, 2010 Gerard said goodbye to the others, got into the driver’s seat of the Trans Am, and drove off. “I can’t believe this,” Revenge said. 

“Yeah, we kind of lost our chance to talk to him,” Pepper said. 

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Revenge said. “Why don’t I look like a vampire anymore?” 

“I was wondering about that too,” Youngblood said. 

“There are some things that you have yet to learn, Revenge,” Figment said. “True art is a weapon. A bright, shiny, slaughtermatic, ridiculously fun weapon.”

All of a sudden, the Trans Am pulled over right in front of the four Gerards. As Youngblood admired the decorations on the car, 2010 Gerard rolled down the window. “Need a ride?” he asked. 

Figment got into the passenger seat, while Youngblood, Revenge, and Pepper squeezed in the back. It was tight, but they all fit inside. “It’s been a while,” 2010 Gerard said to Figment. “I was wondering when I’d see you again.” 

“It’s nice to see you too, Poison,” Figment said. 

“Poison?” Pepper said. “Is that a reference to something?” 

“So give me all your poison, and give me all your pills, and give me all your hopeless hearts and make me ill…” Revenge sang, while Pepper put his hands over Youngblood’s ears. 

“You’re supposed to let Youngblood come up with that himself!” Pepper shouted at his past self. 

“Come up with what?” Youngblood asked. 

“Nevermind,” Pepper said. “You guys never actually answered my question.” 

“It’s because I’m Party Poison!” Poison shouted. 

“And what exactly does that mean?” Pepper asked. 

“It’s my Killjoy name.” 

“Huh,” Revenge said. “That explains why Figment’s such a killjoy.” 

“Revenge tried to leave you in 2006, by the way,” Youngblood said to Figment.

“You weren’t supposed to tell him that!” Revenge exclaimed. 

“I’m still really confused,” Pepper said. 

“So we’re working on our fourth album, and it’s called Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys,” Poison explained. “It’s about a group of rebels living in post-apocalyptic California.” 

“That’s actually pretty cool,” Pepper said. 

“Thanks,” Poison said. “So all the members of the band have Killjoy names. I’m Party Poison, Ray’s Jet Star, Mikey’s Kobra Kid, and Frank is…” He looked out the window and said, “Speak of the devil.” 

“What is it?” Revenge asked, trying to get a view. 

“Frank’s coming,” Poison said. “Get in the trunk. He can’t know you’re here.” 

Youngblood, Revenge, Pepper, and Figment all climbed into the trunk of the Trans Am, which was obviously not designed for four people. By the time they were all inside, Youngblood was sandwiched in between Figment and Pepper, and Revenge was practically on top of him. “There has to be a better way to do this,” Figment complained. “I can’t breathe in here.”

“Me neither,” Youngblood said. 

“Hey Pepper, how come I can’t tell Youngblood about Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge, but you’re allowed to ask Poison about that Danger Days thing he’s working on?” Revenge asked. 

“I didn’t ask him,” Pepper said. “He just kind of started talking about it.” 

“You didn’t stop him,” Revenge pointed out. 

“Let’s change the subject,” Pepper said. 

“Fucking hypocrite,” Revenge mumbled. 

“Figment, why can’t I remember 2007?” Pepper asked. 

“I told you I’d tell you about it later,” Figment said. “Can you just be patient?” 

Pepper groaned, and Youngblood said, “Can all of you _please_ shut up? I want to know what Poison and Frank are up to.” 

All of them went silent, and suddenly, Youngblood heard Frank’s voice. 

“I think the video’s going to turn out really well,” he said. “You did such a good job, Gee. I wish I was half as talented as you.” 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Frank,” Poison said. “You did a great job too, and that yellow jacket looks so good on you…” 

Frank laughed and said, “Kiss me, you animal.” 

Even from the trunk, Youngblood could hear kissing noises. “You sure he’s married?” Pepper said.

“Shut up, Pepper,” Revenge said. “I want to know what happens next.” 

The kissing noises went on for a while longer, and then Poison moaned loudly. “Listen Frankie, I...I can’t…” 

“What is it?” Frank said as he backed away. 

“Now’s just not a good time for this,” Poison said. “I have a lot of stuff to do…”

“Like me?” Frank said suggestively. 

Poison paused and then said, “Let’s wait until tonight, okay?” 

“Okay,” Frank said. “I love you, Gerard.” 

“I love you too.” 

There was a long period of silence, and then Poison unlocked the trunk and said, “Coast is clear.” 

Figment, Pepper, Revenge, and Youngblood climbed out of the trunk and again, Figment got into the passenger seat. “How come he always gets shotgun?” Youngblood asked as he climbed into the backseat. Nobody answered him. 

Poison started the car, and he rolled down the windows as they sped down the highway. The wind rustled through Youngblood’s hair, and he looked out over the desert landscape. “Where are we going exactly?” he asked as they left Death Valley behind.

“I figured we’d just go back to my place,” Poison said. “It’s probably safe there.” 

“That works,” Figment said. 

“So you live in California now?” Pepper said to Poison. 

“Yeah,” Poison said. “I moved to Los Angeles last year, and I love it. I spend a lot of time in Jersey though, since Frank still lives there for some reason.” 

“I was going to ask you about Frank,” Pepper said. “Revenge, Youngblood, didn’t you guys say that we broke up with him in 2007?” 

“Yeah,” Youngblood said. 

“Did you guys get back together or something?” Pepper asked Poison. 

Poison was about to answer, but all of a sudden, the car rolled to a stop in the middle of the highway. “Shit,” Poison said as he desperately tried to restart the Trans Am. “Something’s wrong with the car.” 

“That’s not good,” Youngblood said as several cars sped past them. 

“No shit, Sherlock,” Revenge said. “We’re stuck in the middle of the desert.” 

“It’s not a big deal,” Figment said. “We can just go to the next era, and Poison, you can deal with this when you get back.” 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Poison said. 

Figment went to type their destination into his time machine, but he soon realized that his watch was gone. “What the fuck?” he said as he looked at his bare wrist. “I had it here a few minutes ago.” 

The four other Gerards glanced at each other, afraid of what would happen next. They were stranded on the side of a highway in the middle of the California desert. They were stuck in 2010, with no way out. They had nothing but a broken Trans Am and the clothes on their backs. They were completely and utterly fucked.


	32. California 2010

For the second time since he’d left 2019, Figment panicked. He looked all around the Trans Am, opening up the trunk and searching under every seat, but he couldn’t find his watch. He couldn’t imagine what could have happened to it. He knew that he’d had it when he arrived in 2010, and he knew that he hadn’t taken it off. He must have dropped it somewhere, so if he retraced his steps, he would find it. The time machine couldn’t have gone far. 

“I don’t think it’s in the car,” Poison concluded as Figment kept digging around underneath the driver’s seat. 

“I’m just quadruple checking,” Figment said calmly, but on the inside, he was terrified. What would he do if he couldn’t find his time machine? How would he save Frank? 

“Hey Poison, how many comic books do you have in here exactly?” Pepper asked as he looked for Figment’s watch under a giant stack of comics. 

“Shut up,” Poison said. “I bet your car isn’t any better.” 

Figment tuned them out, but he was getting desperate. He had no clue what he was supposed to do. He remembered being here before, but he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten his watch back. There had to be a way. He just hadn’t thought of it yet. 

Meanwhile, Ray Toro was on his way home, singing along to the radio. He drove fast, and as the engines roared, he congratulated himself on a job well done. The video for “Na Na Na” would surely turn out well, and he hadn’t gotten any new assignments from the Watch, so now, he could go home, relax, and spend some time with his wife Christa. Already, he was sure that today would be a great day. 

He hadn’t bothered to take off his jacket, but he didn’t mind. It was comfortable, and he liked the design a lot. He was genuinely excited for Danger Days: he was sure the fans would love the concept as much as he did. Sometimes, Gerard’s obsession with the album scared him a little bit, but he couldn’t deny that the My Chemical Romance lead singer was one of the most creative artists he knew. He almost felt bad about what would happen to Gerard in the future, the twists of fate that were yet to come. 

He thought back to when he had met the Gerard from 2019 while they were recording the Black Parade. He had done exactly what he was trained to do, but he never found out what happened to Gerard afterwards. Presumably, Billie had dealt with him in whatever way he saw fit; most likely, he had just sent him back to his own time, like he did with most chrono-criminals. Sometimes, he felt bad about arresting one of his closest friends, but he was sure that he’d done the right thing. He was an Agent of the Watch, after all. It was his job to keep time travelers safe. 

Ray put his earpiece in, just to check in with Billie. “Director Armstrong, this is Senior Special Agent Toro,” he said. “Do I have any assignments?” 

He heard some muffled noises, and then Billie Joe’s voice finally cut through. “Ray, Green Day is literally about to go onstage,” he said. “Do you really think I care about Watch business right now?” 

“I’ll take that as a no,” Ray said as he took his earpiece out. He looked ahead and kept on driving down the highway, the Los Angeles skyline looming on the horizon. 

While Ray drove, Figment paced around the Trans Am, trying to think of a way out. His past selves were only distracting him, with Poison showing off his dance moves, Youngblood and Pepper watching Poison dance, and Revenge sitting in the car and sulking. As far as he was concerned, if he couldn’t find the time machine, he only had one option. 

He would have to contact the Watch. 

It seemed counterintuitive. The Watch wanted nothing more than to send him back to his own time, and if they did that, then he wouldn’t be able to save Frank. However, the Watch wouldn’t want to leave a time machine in 2010 for anyone to find. They hated that kind of chaos. Besides, Figment knew that they had the resources to look for his time machine. If Billie could track him through time and space, then he could surely find a missing watch. Figment’s best shot was to find a sympathetic Watch agent and get them to find his time machine. If they sent him back to 2019 instead, then he would be no worse off than he was now. 

The problem was finding an Agent of the Watch who would listen to his plea. His first thought was to call Ray, but he wasn’t sure if that would work. They had been in My Chemical Romance together for a long time, and before he’d left 2019, he’d thought that he could trust Ray. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Ray had hidden that he was in the Watch from him, and he was the one who had turned him in to Billie. Ray was the reason that he was on the run from the Watch. He wasn’t sure that he could ask him for help now.

Billie would be even worse. He would just send him back to his own time without even bothering to find his time machine. Mark Hoppus was useless, and Sheena wouldn’t be born for another two hundred years. The more Figment thought about it, the more he realized that he didn’t have much of a choice. He could call Ray and hope that he would help him find his time machine, or they could all be stranded here forever. 

He stepped away from the Trans Am for a moment, and he took his cell phone out of his pocket. For once, he actually had reception. He took a deep breath and dialed Ray’s number, desperately hoping that his crazy plan might actually work. 

Ray had just pulled into his driveway when his phone rang. He saw that it was Gerard, and he picked up. “Hey Gerard,” he said. “What’s up?” 

“I was wondering if you could do me a favor,” Gerard said. 

“Of course,” Ray said. “What is it?” 

“I lost my time machine,” Gerard said. “Can you help me find it?” 

Ray froze for a moment. Gerard wasn’t supposed to know about time travel, not unless he was a licensed traveler. “Give me a second,” Ray said as he opened the door. “Time travel, Gerard? You must be going crazy.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Ray,” Gerard said. “I know who you really are.” 

Ray ran over to his computer, and he went into the Watch database. He searched through the list of all of the time travelers that had ever existed, all the time travelers that would ever exist, until he found Gerard Way. He confirmed what he had suspected all along: Gerard wouldn’t get his time travel license for another seven years. 

He wasn’t talking to Gerard, or at least, not the Gerard he knew. 

“You’re not from this time, are you?” Ray said. 

“I’m from 2019,” Gerard said. 

This was the same Gerard that he’d arrested four years ago. “Why should I help you?” Ray asked him. 

“Because you’re my friend,” Gerard said. 

“And you’re clearly up to no good.” 

Ray swore he could hear Gerard’s mischievous smile through the phone. “That’s even more of a reason to help me,” he said. “Listen Ray, I’m not asking for much. I just want to know where my time machine is.” 

“Fine,” Ray said. Even he wasn’t sure why he had agreed to this. He told himself that it was only because he couldn’t stand the thought of a time machine just lying around in the desert, but maybe he genuinely wanted to help his friend. 

He opened up his computer again and looked up Gerard’s license number. Then, he put it into another application, one that would tell him where Gerard’s time machine was. “I have good news, and I have bad news,” Ray told Gerard. “Which one do you want to hear first?” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Okay, the good news is that it exists in this time period,” Ray said

Ray heard a sigh of relief. “What’s the bad news?” Gerard asked. 

“The bad news is that it’s at Mike Pedicone’s house,” Ray said. 

Gerard stayed silent for a long time. “He must have stolen it from me,” he finally said. “We’re going to kick him out because of that, by the way. He stole everything from us. Including my time machine, apparently.” 

“I know, Gerard,” Ray said. He had been to the future before. He knew what would happen to Mike Pedicone, and he knew what would happen to MCR too. He still wasn’t quite sure how he felt about his band’s impending breakup, but he supposed that he would deal with it when the time came. 

“But why would he do that?” Gerard asked. “It’s not like he can use my time machine.” 

“He might know how to reprogram it,” Ray said. “He might be doing that as we speak.” 

All of a sudden, Ray knew what he had to do. He wasn’t sure what 2019 Gerard was up to, but it couldn’t be worse than whatever Mike Pedicone wanted to do with his stolen time machine. He had to find Mike, and he had to get Gerard’s watch back. 

“I’m going to find your time machine,” Ray told Gerard. “Where are you right now?” 

“On the side of the 395,” Gerard said. “My car broke down.” 

“Okay,” Ray said. “I’ll be there soon. See you around, Gerard.” 

“Bye.” 

Figment put his cell phone back in his pocket, and he looked out over the desert landscape. He took in the shrubs, the cacti, the endless sand, the mountains in the distance. It was beautiful in its own way, but soon, he’d be gone. Ray would return with his time machine, and they would all be on their way. He turned back to the Trans Am, where Poison and Pepper were chatting, Revenge was still sulking in the backseat, and Youngblood was digging into Poison’s comic book collection. 

“You know, I’m still proud of The Black Parade, but we could have done it better,” Poison said to Pepper. “Maybe more glitter, maybe more spray paint…” 

“Maybe more blood?” Revenge suggested. 

“Shut up,” Poison said. 

Figment rolled his eyes. He couldn’t wait for all of this to be over. He couldn’t wait to leave his past selves behind, go back to 2019, and see Frank again. He couldn’t lose sight of his goal. When Ray came back with his time machine, when all of this was said and done, he would have Frank. It was all he ever wanted.


	33. California 2010

“Hey Figment, who were you talking to?” Youngblood asked. 

Figment paused to think for a moment. “I was on the phone with a friend of mine who’s in the Watch,” he said. 

“The Watch?” Youngblood said. “I thought we were trying to stay away from them.” He found it hard to believe that Figment was friends with anyone in the Watch, especially after Billie had just chased him through time, but there was a lot that he didn’t know about his future self. 

“They’re the only ones who can help us find my time machine,” Figment said. “Anyways, my friend’s on the case, and he should be here with my time machine any minute now.” 

“That’s good,” Youngblood said. He didn’t want to be stuck in the desert any longer than he had to be. He circled around the Trans Am until he found Poison posing with his ray gun. “What are you doing?” he asked. 

“I’m being a fabulous killjoy, obviously,” Poison said as he pretended to shoot Revenge, who seemed more annoyed than anything. 

“Why did I leave my bulletproof vest in 2004?” Revenge complained. “If I had prepared better, then I wouldn’t have to deal with this.” 

“Maybe if you weren’t drunk when you left 2004, you would have remembered,” Pepper said. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Revenge said. 

All of a sudden, Figment walked up to them. “What’s going on over here?” he asked. 

“Poison tried to shoot me, and then Pepper insulted me!” Revenge complained. 

Poison rolled his eyes dramatically and then said, “It’s not even a real gun! He’s overreacting!” 

“Be nice to each other, okay?” Figment said. 

“Fine,” Poison said as he lowered his ray gun and wistfully looked toward the Trans Am. “It’s a shame the car broke down. I’d give it a spin, but it won’t fucking start.” 

“It’s okay,” Pepper said. “Bad things like this happen to me all the time. I’ve learned to expect it.” He sadly glanced at the bits of sand on the ground, and then he looked toward Figment. “So while we’re waiting for your friend from the Watch, can you tell me why I don’t remember 2007? It’s really bothering me now.” 

“No, no, no, I’ve got a way more important question,” Poison said. “Tell me what happens in 2019.” 

“That’s not important!” Pepper insisted. 

“Yes, it is!” Poison exclaimed. “Wouldn’t it be so cool if I predicted the future?” 

“My question is more important!” 

“No, mine is!” 

Figment sighed and then said, “I’m answering Pepper’s question first, but only because he asked first.” He took a cigarette from the front seat of the car, and then he sat on the side of the road, his back leaning up against the Trans Am. As he lit the cigarette, he said, “We don’t have much time though. The Watch will be here any minute.” 

“Just answer the question already,” Pepper said angrily. 

“It’s not as complicated as you think, Pepper,” Figment said. “You can’t remember something that hasn’t happened yet.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Youngblood asked. 

“Yeah, that makes no sense,” Poison said. “You remember all sorts of things that haven’t happened yet, Figment.” 

“When you travel into the future and then return to your own time, your brain erases all of its memories of the future,” Figment explained. “That doesn’t apply to me because I traveled backwards, not forwards, although if I stay in the past long enough, I’ll start to forget what happens in the future.” 

“So how come Revenge and I still remember 2007?” Youngblood asked. 

“You haven’t returned to your own time yet,” Figment answered. 

“So when I go back to 2002, will I…” 

“Yes, yes you will.” 

Youngblood took a moment to process this. Eventually, he would forget the future. Everything he’d seen, everything he’d heard, everything he’d learned about what lies ahead would be erased. It would be as if none of this had ever happened, as if the time machine had glitched back in 2002. 

He looked toward his future selves for a moment. Poison looked just as shocked and confused as he did, even though this was the fourth time he’d heard this. It all made sense now - why his future selves acted as they were experiencing everything for the first time. Youngblood just wished that he could keep his memories. He wished that he could go home and remember what his next album would be called, how far the band had come, how happy he was with Frank, and most importantly, whether or not they would be able to save him. 

“Huh,” Revenge said. “So that’s why I don’t remember time traveling when you showed up two years ago.” 

“Exactly,” Figment said. 

“So I’m not going to remember any of this either?” Pepper complained. “Is there any way to stop my brain from deleting my memories?” 

“I suppose you could bring a notepad or something with you and take notes, but I’ve never tried that,” Figment said. 

Pepper groaned. “But I don’t want to forget this,” he said. 

“Hey, at least I can tell Youngblood about Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge now,” Revenge said. “Because he’s going to forget it when he gets home, right?” 

“Shut up, Revenge!” Pepper shouted. He turned toward Figment and asked, “So it’s true that I’m going to marry some girl named Lindsey?” 

“We didn’t lie to you, Pepper,” Youngblood said. 

Figment paused and then nodded. “Yes, you’re going to marry Lindsey,” he said. 

“But why?” Pepper asked. “Why would I hurt Frank like that?” 

Figment was about to say something, but then Poison interjected, “Figment! Answer my question! You said you would!” 

Figment sighed and asked, “What was your question again?” 

“What happens in 2019?” Poison asked. 

“Lots of things happen in 2019,” Figment said. “What do you want to know?” 

“Has the apocalypse happened yet?” 

Figment paused, and with a pokerface to rival Mikey’s, he said, “Yes.”

“Really?” Poison said, excited. “What’s it like?” 

Figment tried to keep himself from laughing as he told Poison about the future. “Better Living Industries took over in 2012, and we’ve been fighting against Korse and the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit ever since then. It’s not easy, but in this world, it’s death or victory.” 

“He’s joking, right?” Youngblood whispered to Revenge. 

“I honestly can’t tell,” Revenge said. 

Regardless of whether or not it was true, Poison lapped up every word Figment said. “So I was right all along!” he exclaimed. “I predicted the future!”

“Yes, you did,” Figment said, desperately trying to keep a straight face. He looked out over the desert landscape and said, “All of this will be part of the Zones one day.” 

“Wow, that’s crazy,” Poison said. “I can’t wait until 2019. It’s going to be amazing.” 

“What are you talking about?” Figment snapped. “Why would you _want_ everything in Danger Days to happen? All of the Killjoys die in that album! Including you!”

Poison shrugged and said, “You only live forever in the lights you make.” 

Figment groaned. “Whatever, Poison. I answered your question,” he said. “Pepper, you deserve to know why we broke up with Frank.” 

“Yeah, I was wondering about that too,” Revenge said. 

“It’s kind of a long story,” Figment said as he lit another cigarette. Youngblood, Revenge, and Pepper all sat down next to him, eager to hear what he had to say. Meanwhile, Poison stood off to the side, staring off into the distance and daydreaming about his new album. 

“It started during Projekt Revolution, when a music magazine wanted to write an article about our relationship,” Figment said. “I still don’t know how they found out - Frank and I never told anyone. Maybe we made out onstage one too many times. Anyways, I knew that we couldn’t let them write about us. If the fans knew, if the media knew, it would ruin us. We had to keep our love a secret.” 

Revenge and Pepper nodded, while Youngblood thought it over. My Chemical Romance wasn’t famous yet in his time, but he had no idea what his bandmates would think if they knew how he felt about Frank, and he didn’t want to find out. It would be even worse with their fans. In his time, there were barely enough of them to fill Geoff Rickly’s basement, but Pepper’s fans could probably form a small army. When he thought about how they might react if they knew, he decided that Figment was right. If he was going to date Frank in the future, they would have to keep it a secret, no matter the cost. 

“Frank didn’t want to do that though,” Figment continued. “He thought that it would be better if we told the band, the fans, the media, everyone we knew. He was done with keeping secrets.” He sighed and then said, “Frank and I got into a big fight onstage one night, and after the show was over, I finally broke things off with him. I couldn’t stand it anymore: the fame, the pressure, hiding such a huge part of my life from everyone, and I thought it would be better if Frank and I weren’t together.

“That was around the time I met Lindsey. When I saw her for the first time, I swore it was love at first sight. She was beautiful and smart and talented, and I was sure that she was perfect for me. I thought that being with her would help me forget about Frank. I asked her to marry me a few weeks after I broke up with Frank, and she said yes. We got married at the end of the tour, and for a while, everything was perfect. We spent every moment together. We moved to LA together. She knew me better than I knew myself, and I was hopelessly, desperately in love with her. Even when she said something that reminded me of Frank, I tried not to think of him. I shared my life with Lindsey now.”

“So how come Poison just made out with Frank?” Youngblood interrupted.

“I was getting to that part!” Figment explained. “Be patient!” Youngblood, Revenge, and Pepper went silent, and Figment continued his story. “Two years went by, and one day, Lindsey told me that we needed to talk. She told me that she knew that I was still in love with Frank, and she thought it would be better if we went our separate ways. At the time, I was shocked and heartbroken, but now, I know that she was right. Even when I was married to Lindsey, hardly a day went by when I didn’t think about Frank. At night, I still longed for his beautiful face, and I heard him play the guitar in my dreams. 

“All Lindsey wanted was for me to be happy. She told me so. She told me that she couldn’t be happy unless I was happy, and she knew that I wouldn’t be happy unless I was with Frank. That’s how I know she really loved me. She loved me because she let me go, even when I begged her to stay, even when I insisted that I didn’t love Frank anymore. She knew me better than I knew myself. 

“After the divorce, I called Frank, and we had a long talk about art, about music, about life. I told him that I missed making music with him, and he said that he missed that too. We’d become so distant after the breakup, and more than anything, I missed how I felt when I was on stage with him. There was so much energy, so much passion, and I always felt better knowing that he was by my side. So we started working on another MCR album.” 

Figment laughed and said, “Of course, we scrapped that project once we started working on Danger Days, but while we were working, we slowly started falling in love again. We decided to give our relationship another try, but we agreed that there would be no more secrets. We didn’t have to tell the fans or the media if we didn’t want to, but if we were going to be together again, Ray, Bob, and Mikey deserved to know about it.” 

“Ooh, can I tell them about what happened next?” Poison said, excited. 

“Go for it,” Figment said. 

So Poison started to tell his story.


	34. Japan 2009

It was the night before the Summer Sonic Festival was supposed to start, and while the rest of the band was busy rehearsing, Gerard was at the hair salon. “Are you sure about this?” the hairdresser, a petite woman with a heavy Japanese accent, asked him as soon as he was done telling her what he wanted. 

“I’m sure,” Gerard said. 

“But are you _sure_?” she asked. 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” 

The hairdresser shrugged and said, “If you say so.” Then, she started working on Gerard’s hair. “I will have to bleach this and then dye.” 

“That’s fine,” Gerard said. “I bleached my hair a couple of years ago, when we were working on The Black Parade.” 

“You are one of the American musicians, yes?” the hairdresser said as she started bleaching Gerard’s hair. 

“Yeah. My band is here for Summer Sonic.” 

“Which band are you in?” 

It was refreshing, meeting someone who didn’t recognize him immediately. “My Chemical Romance,” he said. 

“Oh, the friend of my daughter likes your band a lot,” the hairdresser said. “And you will go on stage with hair like this?” 

“No, I’ll be back here tomorrow to dye my hair black again,” Gerard said. 

“So why are you dyeing it now?” 

Gerard sighed and said, “This is a big day for me. I’m coming out to my band.” 

“I see,” the hairdresser said. “I will make sure that your hair is perfect.” 

“Thank you,” Gerard said. 

The hours went by, and Gerard’s mind raced. Most of it was normal - ideas for comics, ideas for the new album - but there were some nagging thoughts in the back of his head, telling him about all the horrible things that could happen if the other band members knew that he was dating Frank. There were so many reasons why he had kept it from them for so long, and now, he was about to give his secret away. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was making a mistake. 

He knew that he had no reason to be worried. They had already been through so much together, and if they were going to turn their backs on him, they would have done it a long time ago. Besides, Mikey already knew that he was bi, and he didn’t think that his brother would care that he was dating Frank. He doubted that Ray or Bob would react badly either, and even if they did, he always had Frank. No matter what happened tonight, he would always have his kind, talented, impossibly beautiful boyfriend, and he couldn’t be more thankful for that. 

“Your hair is done,” the hairdresser said. Gerard looked in the mirror, and for the first time in a long time, he liked what he saw. There was a stripe of red, a stripe of orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple. Every color in the rainbow.

It was perfect. 

Gerard thanked the hairdresser, gave her an extra large tip, and then headed to the rehearsal space. As soon as he got there, Frank ran over to him. “Gerard!” he exclaimed as he embraced his boyfriend. “Where were you?” All of a sudden, he noticed Gerard’s hair. “That’s rad,” he said. 

“You like my new hair color?” Gerard said. He didn’t hear any music - the band must have finished rehearsing, but he didn’t think that they’d left yet. 

“I love it,” Frank said. “Then again, I think I’ve said that every time you’ve dyed your hair. You always look amazing.” 

Gerard blushed. He was thirty-two - really too old to be getting so flustered - but it had been like this ever since he and Frank had gotten back together. Being with Frank made him feel young again, like the two of them were recapturing a lost spark. He thought back to when Lindsey said that he couldn’t be happy without Frank, and he was starting to think that she was right all along. 

“Thank you,” Gerard said as he gazed into Frank’s eyes. “You look great too.” 

“Thanks,” Frank said. “So are you ready to go talk to them?” 

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Gerard said. 

“Don’t be nervous,” Frank said. “It’s just Mikey, Ray, and Bob. They’re our friends.” 

“I know,” Gerard said, still more anxious than he had any right to be. 

“Come on, Gee!” Frank exclaimed. “You can’t chicken out now! You dyed your hair for this!” 

“You’re right,” Gerard admitted. “I did.” 

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Frank said. Gerard didn’t answer, but he still seemed scared. “Here, I’ll give you a kiss for good luck.” Frank gave him a quick peck on the lips and then took his hand. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. Let’s go talk to them.” 

They walked into the next room, where Mikey, Ray, and Bob were packing up their instruments. “Nice hair, Gerard,” Mikey said as he put his bass away. 

“Thanks,” Gerard said. “So...uhh...Frank and I wanted to talk to you guys about something.” 

“What is it?” Mikey asked. 

All of the band members turned to face Gerard and Frank, and for a moment, Gerard panicked. “I don’t think I can do this,” he whispered as he squeezed Frank’s hand. 

“I told you, it’s going to be okay,” Frank said to Gerard. 

“Can you tell them?” Gerard asked. 

“Sure, babe,” Frank said. He then turned to the rest of the band. “Gerard and I are dating.” 

“Yeah, we know,” Ray, Mikey, and Bob all said at once. 

Gerard looked at Frank, confused. They had been so careful not to tell their bandmates about their relationship. When they were together the first time, the rest of MCR had never said anything. They had never shown any sign of knowing that he and Frank were hopelessly in love with each other. How could they possibly know? 

“You guys have been together at least as long as I’ve been in the band,” Bob said. 

“No, it’s been going on much longer than that,” Ray said. “You two have probably been together almost as long as the band has.” He shrugged and added, “I’m not mad about it. I just wish you’d told us earlier.” 

“If I’m not mistaken, you got together after the album release party for I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love, broke up sometime during the Projekt Revolution tour, and then got back together again...two weeks ago maybe?” Mikey said. 

Frank and Gerard were baffled. “How do you know all of this?” Gerard asked. 

Ray, Mikey, and Bob all exchanged a look. “Do you want to tell them?” Bob asked. 

“We probably should,” Ray said. 

“Let’s be honest, we should have told them on that tour back in 2003,” Mikey said, sounding rather disenchanted. “So the walls of the tour bus…” 

“They’re not soundproof,” Ray finished. 

“They’re not?” Frank said, confused. 

“They’re not,” Bob confirmed. 

“We can hear everything you guys are doing,” Ray said. 

“And I mean _everything_ ,” Mikey said. “It’s horrible.” 

Frank and Gerard were absolutely shocked by this revelation. While Gerard played with a strand of his rainbow-striped hair, trying to process all of this, Frank said, “So last night…when Gee and I said that we were going to practice DESTROYA…” 

“Yeah, we know that’s not what you were really doing,” Bob said. 

“Unless you were working on the moaning part,” Mikey joked. 

There was an awkward silence, and then Ray said, “Listen, I think I can speak for the whole band when I say that you’re not just our bandmates. You’re our friends, and we love you no matter what.” 

Mikey and Bob both nodded. “Maybe just find somewhere else to ‘practice DESTROYA,’ okay?” Mikey added. 

“Okay,” Gerard and Frank said simultaneously. Talking to the band had gone much better than Gerard expected. He felt like a huge weight had finally been lifted.

“Let’s get back to business,” Ray said as he took his guitar out again and quickly tuned it. “We don’t have time to run through the whole setlist again, but now that Gerard’s here, we should probably at least rehearse our new song. That’s the one that needs the most work.” 

“Which new song are we doing?” Frank asked. “Make Room, right?” 

“MAKE ROOM!!!! MAKE ROOM!!!!” Gerard screamed. “Down on the coffin, there's a coffin or two!” 

As Gerard sang, Frank pulled out his guitar. Gerard smiled as he watched his boyfriend run around, aggressively strumming and shouting the lyrics. Frank jumped into the air, like gravity didn’t mean a thing to him, and when he landed, he kept on rocking out, letting the music overtake him. 

“No, we’re not doing Make Room,” Ray said. 

“Aww, why not?” Gerard said as Frank played a sad-sounding riff on his guitar. 

“Because we agreed that we were going to play Kiss The Ring instead.” Gerard frowned, and Ray said, “Don’t worry. We’ll play Make Room another time.” 

“Also Frank, maybe don’t wear yourself out before the show tomorrow?” Mikey said. 

“The only thing wearing me out around here is you,” Frank said. 

Mikey was about to say something quite rude, but Gerard interrupted him. “Is everybody ready?” he asked. 

“Fuckin’ ready,” Mikey said. 

They started playing, and when Gerard leaned in to the microphone, his rainbow hair falling in his face, he thought about how thankful he was: for Bob, for Ray, for Mikey, for Frank. They were what made playing in a band worth it, what made his whole life worth living. 

Frank came closer, and he took one hand off of his guitar for a moment and ran it through Gerard’s hair. “The rainbow hair really suits you,” he whispered. “Are you sure you’re not going to keep it for the show?” 

“We’ll see,” Gerard said with a smile. 

He kept on singing, and the rest of the band went absolutely crazy, with Ray playing wild guitar solos, Frank jumping and running around like a madman, Mikey playing perfect bass rhythms, and Bob banging on the drums. There was nobody else in the practice space, but if there was, the whole damn room would have been on the edge of a blade. It was a magical moment, and it was even better now that Gerard could finally be honest with the four people in the world that he loved most: his bandmates. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art is by zero.ghosts on Instagram, who has been reading this fic on Wattpad and decided to make some fabulous fanart of Revenge and Poison. So thanks to zero.ghosts, and thanks to everyone who's supported this story so far! Your kudos, subscriptions, bookmarks, and especially your comments always make my day! :D


	35. California 2010

“So that’s how I came out to the band,” Poison said. “Any questions?” 

Revenge and Pepper were both completely shocked. Their jaws dropped, unable to believe what they had just heard. “What do you mean the tour bus isn’t soundproof?” Revenge said. 

“Yeah, I always thought that it was!” Pepper added. 

“I can’t believe this,” Revenge said. “Frank and I worked so hard to keep our relationship a secret, but it was all for nothing. I suppose I was right all along: secrets are pointless, love is an illusion, life is but a dream for the dead…” 

“Will you shut up already?” Pepper said. 

Youngblood turned to Poison and asked, “So what happens after that?” 

“Nothing much,” Poison said. “Bob left the band, we scrapped the album, and we started working on Danger Days instead. It’s going to be a great album, I think, the best one that we’ve ever made. Frank and I have been together since last year, and I love him very much.” All of a sudden, Poison pulled out his cell phone and checked the time. “By the way, Figment, Frank’s coming over, so I need to be home in twenty minutes. When is your friend from the Watch going to show up?” 

“Any minute now,” Figment said. 

“You said that three hours ago,” Revenge grumbled. 

“He’ll be here as soon as he has my time machine,” Figment said. 

“When’s that going to be?” Youngblood asked. He was starting to get impatient too. After all, he had to make it home eventually. Even if he wouldn’t be able to remember the future, there was so much that he had to do when he got back to his own time. He had to keep going with MCR, he had to work on his vampire comic - even if Figment said he wouldn’t finish it - and most importantly, he had to see Frank again. The last thing he wanted was to get stuck in the middle of the desert in 2010. 

“I don’t know,” Figment said. 

“Well, if he’s not here in the next twenty minutes, I’m leaving,” Poison said, his eyes still glued to his phone. 

Pepper looked over Poison’s shoulder and said, “Wow, that’s a really fancy phone. Is that a touchscreen? I didn’t know you could do that!” 

Poison shrugged and said, “I don’t know. It’s nothing special, really.” 

“You should see Figment’s phone,” Youngblood interjected. “It’s even better than Poison’s.” 

“That’s not possible,” Revenge said dismissively. As Poison texted Frank, Revenge turned to Figment. “Hey, I have another question.” 

“Sure,” Figment said. “What is it?” 

“Did the Watch really ban everyone from traveling to 2007?” Revenge asked. “I mean, they didn’t stop us from going there…” 

“I was wondering about that too,” Youngblood said. 

“No, there’s no restriction on going to 2007,” Figment said. 

“Then why did you tell us that there was?” Youngblood asked. 

“I just didn’t want you to go there!” Figment exclaimed. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but breaking up with Frank was one of the worst. Even now, twelve years later, I wish that I hadn’t broken his heart like that. I thought it would be better if you didn’t know about it, and I thought that maybe you wouldn’t go there if I told you it was banned.” 

“No, that just made me want to go there more,” Revenge said. 

“Same,” Youngblood said. 

“It’s reverse psychology, Figment,” Pepper said. 

Figment shook his head and sighed. “You guys are idiots, but maybe I shouldn’t have lied to you in the first place,” he said. “Is there anything else you want to know?” 

All of this talk of 2007 was making Youngblood think back to the wedding. Despite his feelings for Frank, he couldn’t stop thinking about the beautiful woman that he would marry one day. “What happens to Lindsey?” he asked. 

“Lindsey? What’s this about Lindsey?” Poison said, finally looking up from his phone. “She’s awesome.” 

“Yeah, Lindsey and I are still really close,” Figment said. “We’re friends, but nothing more, and I think it’s better off that way.” 

“That’s nice,” Youngblood said. He leaned against the Trans Am, and he watched Poison as he put his phone back into his pocket and drew some strange symbols in the sand. “What are those?” he asked. 

“They’re Killjoy symbols, obviously,” Poison said as he carefully wrote “PARTY POISON WAS HERE” in giant letters in the sand. 

“And what’s the point of this?” Revenge asked. 

“It’s art,” Poison said. “Art doesn’t need to have a point.” He traced a gigantic spider with his finger and then wrote “ALSO PARTY POISON IS THE GOD OF SASS, NOT REVENGE. REVENGE SUCKS.” 

“How dare you?!” Revenge said. He went over to Poison and frantically started drawing an army of vampires, coming to eat all of Poison’s drawings. Youngblood came over to help him, and eventually, he lost himself in the art. He lay down on the ground and sketched vampires and knives and skeletons to his heart’s content, paying no attention to what his future selves were doing. For a moment, he made his peace with being stuck in 2010, waiting on Figment’s mysterious friend. He forgot about Frank, the rest of the band, all the plans he had in 2002, the past and the future. He only had his pictures in the sand, and for a few hours, that was enough. 

As the Gerards doodled, the sun started to set. Before long, night had fallen over Death Valley, and Figment’s mysterious friend from the Watch still hadn’t shown up. 

“Seriously, Figment, when’s your friend going to show up?” Youngblood complained. 

“I told you already,” Figment said. “I don’t know.” 

“What if he doesn’t come?” Pepper said. “Then, we’ll just be stuck here.” 

“Pepper has a point,” Revenge said. “Maybe the Watch just took Figment’s time machine and ran. Billie doesn’t want us time traveling anyways, so there’s no reason for anyone in the Watch to help us. You know, if we had just made that deal with the devil back in 2006, we wouldn’t have to rely on them at all.” 

“Why is making a deal with the devil your solution to everything?” Poison asked. 

“Because it’s a good idea!” Revenge exclaimed. 

“It’s really not,” Poison said. “Anyways, Figment, your friend from the Watch had better show up soon. I told Frank I’d be home three hours ago.” 

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Figment said. 

As soon as he heard that, Poison jumped into the driver’s seat of the Trans Am, and he tried to start the car one more time. It didn’t work: the Trans Am sputtered for a moment, but it didn’t actually go anywhere. 

Poison sighed, got out of the car, and tried to push it down the highway, but no matter how hard he pushed, the Trans Am wouldn’t budge. He slumped onto the ground, sweat running down his face, and said, “Never mind. I guess I'll stay.” 

“It’s for the best,” Figment said. “It would have messed up my whole plan if you left. I would have needed to find another version of myself.” 

“What is your plan anyways?” Poison asked. Figment didn’t answer. “And you wonder why we complain about you not telling us anything,” he said sarcastically. “Do we get to go to 2019 though?” 

“No,” Figment said. 

“Fuck,” Poison said. “I really wanted to see the apocalypse.” 

“You’ll see it eventually,” Figment said. 

“But I want to see it now!” 

“This is really a moot point until I get my time machine back,” Figment said, making Poison quite disappointed. “By the way, I haven’t eaten since I left 2019, and I’m starving.” 

“Me too,” Youngblood said. 

“I bet there’s some food in the Trans Am,” Revenge said. He got into the car and started looking around, and Youngblood and Pepper helped him. However, no matter where they looked, they couldn’t find anything. 

“Seriously?” Pepper complained. “I always keep food in my car.” 

Poison shrugged. “You guys will be okay,” he said. “Figment’s friend is coming soon, right?” 

“I hope so,” Figment said, but even he seemed a little unsure. He turned to Poison. “How long has it been since you last ate?” he asked. 

“I had coffee this morning,” Poison said. 

“Coffee doesn’t count,” Figment said. 

“Uhh...two days?” Poison said. “Maybe three?” 

“That’s not healthy,” Figment said. 

“It’s fine,” Poison said. 

“No, it’s not. As soon as I get my time machine back, we’re all going to get something to eat. Including you, Poison.” 

Poison reluctantly agreed, and Youngblood briefly glanced at his future self. He was starting to understand what Figment meant when he said that all of his wildest dreams and all of his worst nightmares would come true. Between the pressures of being famous and the demons he would have to face one day, he was getting the feeling that being in My Chemical Romance was both a blessing and a curse. 

The Gerards went back to waiting next to the Trans Am, hoping that the Watch would come sooner rather than later. “Isn’t your friend time traveling here?” Youngblood asked. 

“I think so,” Figment said. 

“So if he was going to come, wouldn’t he be here by now?” Youngblood said. 

“Probably,” Figment admitted. 

It was just as Youngblood thought. They were stuck here, and with every tick of the clock, their situation became even more hopeless. They were stranded in the desert, stranded in 2010, and at this rate, they were going to starve to death too. As the hours went by, and the moon rose over Death Valley, Youngblood wondered how the hell they were going to get themselves out of this one.


	36. New Jersey 2002

When Ray Toro opened his eyes, he immediately recognized his surroundings. It all added up: the big, fancy house, the loud noises, the cars parked out front with New Jersey license plates. He never thought he would come back here, especially not after he’d moved to LA, but here he was. He was home again.

As Ray walked toward the house, he pressed a button on the side of his watch, turning it back into a giant robot keychain. As he attached the keychain to his key ring, he looked around, trying to figure out where Mike Pedicone could have possibly run off to. He was smarter than Ray had given him credit for, coming somewhere like this. Mike would have no problem slipping into the crowd, but for Ray, it was a minefield. Everyone he knew was here, and he couldn’t let any of his friends see him: not Mikey, not Frank, and definitely not Gerard. 

According to the Watch’s computer system, there were two copies of Machine #41089042 in this time. One of them belonged to 2019 Gerard, and the other was the one that Mike Pedicone had reprogrammed. Ray had chased Mike through space and time, through wild forests and towering cities, through every wonder of the world, through the past, the present, and the future, and it had all led to this: a release party for an obscure album by a little-known band. Sure, My Chemical Romance would become famous in the future, but that didn’t explain why Mike had come to this era. As Ray opened the door, he suspected that he was about to find out.

There were tons of people inside, and thankfully, Ray didn’t spot his past self or any of his bandmates right away. He put his sunglasses on, hoping that it might make him a little harder to recognize, and he pushed his way through the sea of people at the party. He couldn’t find Mike right away, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t here. He’d just learned to blend in with the crowd. 

Ray searched the whole first floor, but Mike was nowhere to be found. He paused for a moment as he thought about what to do next. He could check upstairs, or he could look outside and see if Mike had left the premises. He considered checking in with the Watch again, but doing that in this era would be a waste of time. In 2002, the Watch had just finished digitizing the machine tracker and the license database, and it was still glitchy. Ray would probably end up spending more time trying to get the tracker to work than actually searching for Mike and his stolen time machine. 

He couldn’t give up though. He had to stop Mike, and he had to get Gerard’s time machine back. To be fair, he wasn’t sure that Gerard wasn’t a chrono-criminal too, but Ray had known him for years. He trusted him, even if all of his instincts as a Watch agent told him that he shouldn’t. More than that, he had told Gerard that he would get his time machine back, and he wasn’t the type to go back on his word. He had to finish the job, no matter what. 

As he walked past the bar, he heard a familiar voice shout, “Hey Ray! Nice jacket!” He turned toward the bar, and he spotted Gerard. With his dyed black hair and leather jacket, he wasn’t quite the Gerard he knew, but Ray almost stopped to talk to him anyways. However, he thought better of it, and he walked away just as Gerard took another drink from the bartender. 

Ray kept on looking around the house, searching for nearly an hour, but he couldn’t find Mike Pedicone anywhere. He got distracted for a few minutes when Eyeball decided to screen some of MCR’s then-recent music videos, but he quickly went back to work. He kept a close eye on his bandmates, and he kept a low profile until both Frank and Gerard were gone. For a moment, he wondered where they were and what they were doing, and then he decided that he was better off not worrying about them. He had to find Mike Pedicone. 

Eventually, Ray decided that he would need to get some help if he was going to find Mike. His past self had just joined the Watch - he was a new recruit, but he did know about time travel, so Ray could talk to him without violating Watch restrictions. 

Ray wandered around for a little while longer, and he found his past self chatting with an Eyeball executive. Ray waited patiently until he was done, and then he tapped him on the shoulder. 

“What is it?” the Ray from 2002 said. He turned toward 2010 Ray and then asked, “Who are you?” 

“I’m you from the future,” 2010 Ray said. 

“Cool,” 2002 Ray said. “What’s the future like?” 

“That’s not important right now,” 2010 Ray said. 

“Also, that’s an awesome jacket.” 

“Thank you.” 

“I kind of like the longer hair too. Maybe I should try it.” 

“Could you please focus?” 

“Sorry. What do you need to talk to me about?” 

“Could you please let me know if you see anyone with brown hair and a mustache?”

“Oh yeah, I saw a guy like that a few minutes ago.” 

“Really?” 2010 Ray said, excited. 

“Yeah,” 2002 Ray said. “He was in his forties, maybe, and he was wearing this plaid jacket…” 

“That’s Gerard,” 2010 Ray said. “You’re talking about Gerard.” 

2002 Ray laughed. “Do you really think I can’t recognize my own bandmate?” he asked. “I saw Gerard earlier, and he has black hair, not brown...” 

“I’m not talking about that Gerard,” 2010 Ray said. “There’s another Gerard here, from the year 2019. I still don’t really know what he’s doing, but I’m not worried about that right now. I’m looking for Mike Pedicone.” 

“Who’s that?” 2002 Ray asked. 

2010 Ray sighed in exasperation. “It’s a long story,” he said. “Can you just let me know if you see any guys with brown hair and a mustache who aren’t Gerard?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Thank you,” 2010 Ray said as he walked off. “Enjoy the rest of the party.” 

Ray took another look around, and that was when he found him. Mike was standing next to the table where an Eyeball employee was handing out copies of the album. “Oh my God, I’m so excited for this album!” Mike said to her. “Do you mind if I take a few copies?” 

“Go for it,” she said. “Honestly, I don’t get the hype around these guys. I seriously think it’s going to be a struggle just to break even on this album. I mean, what’s it called? I Brought You My Love, You Brought Me Your Bullets? What kind of a pretentious title is that?” 

As she ranted, Mike snatched several dozen copies of MCR’s debut and then wandered off. Ray had to admit that his plan wasn’t a bad one. Those CDs were nearly worthless in 2002, but Mike could make some money off of them in 2010, and he might be able to fetch a small fortune if he sold them even farther in the future. 

Ray had to act fast. Already, Mike was starting to type something into his stolen watch. Ray sprinted across the room, and just as Mike was about to finish typing, he grabbed his wrist and dragged him outside. Mike tried to fight back, but it was useless: Ray was far stronger than he was. 

Once they were out of sight, Ray took Mike’s time machine and his stack of CDs, and he snapped a pair of handcuffs on. “What are you doing, Ray?” Mike shouted. “I didn’t do anything!” 

“Really?” Ray said. “Then what were you going to with all of those copies of I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love?” 

“Listen to them?” Mike said. 

“Do you really need 42 copies to do that?” Ray asked. Mike stayed silent as Ray checked the serial number on the time machine. “Besides, this is Machine #41089042, which according to the Watch database, will be issued to Gerard Way in 2017. What are you doing with Gerard’s time machine, Mike?” 

“He lent it to me,” Mike said. 

“I don’t believe you, but even if that was true, it’s against Watch regulations for anyone other than the person to whom the machine was issued to operate a time machine. I’m going to have to send you to my boss.” Ray put his earpiece in and said, “Director Armstrong, this is Senior Special Agent Toro…” 

Billie Joe laughed hysterically. “Senior Special Agent?” he said. “Ray, don’t you think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself? Your rank is New Agent Trainee, not Senior Special Agent. Those are agents who have been in the Watch for a while. Y’know, like Mark Hoppus.” 

“I time traveled here from 2010,” Ray explained. “In my time, my rank is Senior Special Agent. I apologize for the confusion.” 

“Oh, it’s okay,” Billie said. “It’s cool that you’re here. Anyways, what am I up to in 2010?” 

“You’re thirty-eight, even though you don’t look like it at all, and you’re busy making a musical out of your album American Idiot and touring for your other album 21st Century Breakdown,” Ray said. 

“Yeah, that sounds like me,” Billie said. “So anyways, what’s going on?” 

“I’ve captured a time traveler with a stolen time machine,” Ray explained. “His name is Mike Pedicone, and I have reason to believe that he traveled back in time to engage in illegal activity. I’ll return his time machine to its rightful owner, but I presume that you’d like me to send him to you for questioning?” 

“Nice work, Ray,” Billie said. “Yes, send him to my office in LA.” 

“I’ll do that,” Ray said. “Thank you, Billie.” He turned off his earpiece, and he pressed a button on the side of his keychain to turn it back into a watch. Then, he put the watch on his wrist and pushed a few buttons to send Mike Pedicone to Billie’s office. All of a sudden, Mike was gone, and Ray was holding Gerard’s time machine. Finally, he had won. 

Before he left 2002, Ray went back inside and put the copies of I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love that Mike had stolen back on the table. “Seriously? You’re giving me more of these?” the Eyeball employee said. “I just gave away a whole bunch!” 

“Sorry,” Ray said. “The owner said we had to give away more. Something about generating positive word of mouth.” 

Before the woman at the table could question him any more, Ray ran outside and typed “California 2010” into his watch. If everything went according to plan, he’d be back in his own time, and he would have Gerard’s watch ready for him. However, he worried about whatever 2019 Gerard was up to. What would he do once he had his time machine back? 

As Ray finished typing into his watch and disappeared, he only hoped that he had done the right thing.


	37. California 2010

It was three o’clock in the morning: the devil’s hour. Traffic had died down, and Death Valley was dead silent. There was no one on the road at this time of night, unless you counted the brightly painted Trans Am still stranded on the side of the 395. 

Youngblood was fast asleep. He was curled up in the backseat of the car, softly snoring and occasionally whispering something that sounded like “Frank,” “I’ll never let them hurt you,” or “Pepperiwillkillyouifyoudon’tgetoffmerightnow.” 

Pepper was trying to sleep too, but he had made the grave mistake of sitting next to Poison. “Pepper!” Poison shouted, nudging him awake again. 

“What is it?” Pepper said drowsily. 

“I just wanted to tell you that they made a movie out of Watchmen, and My Chemical Romance got to cover a Bob Dylan song for it.” 

“That sounds made up,” Pepper said. 

“It’s not,” Poison said. 

“I’m pretty sure it is, just like whatever bullshit you told me about some newspaper in England thinking that we were a suicide cult.” 

“I swear it’s all true,” Poison said. He grabbed a comic book from under the seat and placed his left hand on it, while raising his right hand. “I swear it on the holy Bible that is Doom Patrol Volume 2, Number 19.” 

“Whatever,” Pepper said. 

“And after that, we were abducted by aliens,” Poison said. “It was crazy. They took us in their spaceship and everything.” 

“Okay, now I know you’re messing with me.” 

“I’m not!” 

“Can you please just be quiet?” Pepper said, leaning his head against the seat rest. “I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in weeks.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that,” Poison said. “Those night terrors were awful. Did you get the one where everyone you love dies yet? I think that was the scariest one. It made for some great song material though.” 

“Will you shut the fuck up?!” Pepper shouted as he shut his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. 

Meanwhile, Figment and Revenge were wide awake. Figment was in the driver’s seat, alternating between staring out the windshield, checking his phone, and wishing that he had coffee. Revenge, on the other hand, was hell-bent on figuring out exactly what was going on. 

“So what is your plan anyways?” Revenge asked. 

Figment sighed. This was the fourteenth time Revenge had asked the exact same question, and for the fourteenth time, Figment looked up from his phone and gave him the exact same answer. “You’ll see,” Figment said. 

“What kind of an answer is that?” Revenge asked, but Figment didn’t respond. Revenge turned to look out the window, watching a tumbleweed slowly roll by. “Some vodka would be really nice right about now.” 

“No, Revenge,” Figment said. “That’s not happening.” 

“Maybe you’d loosen up a little if you had something to drink,” Revenge said. 

“Still no,” Figment said. 

Figment looked out the windshield and searched for Ray, but he was nowhere to be found. He tried to hold onto a shred of hope, but Youngblood was right: Ray should have shown up hours ago. Something awful must have happened to him while he was time traveling. That was the only way to explain why he hadn’t come yet. Figment took a deep breath and looked for Ray one more time, but he was starting to worry that they really were stuck here.

Figment wiped away his tears as he realized what this meant. Ray Toro, one of his closest friends, was gone forever. Sure, he had hidden the fact that he was an agent of the Watch from him, but that didn’t cancel out all of the years that they’d been friends. Figment had written songs with him, he’d played shows with him, he’d left him behind at a countless number of truck stops, and now, Ray had lost his life trying to do him a favor. He wondered what he was going to do now, how he was going to go on without his best friend. 

Of course, Ray couldn’t really be gone. It wasn’t possible. If he was dead, Figment wouldn’t remember him still being around in his time. However, if Ray didn’t show up soon, he would have to take the slow path back to 2019. He wondered if he would even remember anything when he got there. Would he just lose every memory he had, all the wonderful moments he’d shared with his bandmates over the years? He couldn’t let that happen. 

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he had to get his time machine back, no matter what. There was no other choice. If Ray couldn’t find it for him, then he would have to do the job himself. He didn’t know how he would do it, but he would find that time machine. He would keep going with his plan, save Frank, and go home to 2019, where his beautiful guitarist would surely be waiting for him. 

“Are you okay?” Revenge asked Figment. “You look kind of upset.” 

“I’m not okay,” Figment said. 

Revenge laughed. “That seems like something I would say,” he said. “I guess that makes sense though. You are me, even if you’re, like, the weird, boring version of me from the future with some crazy plan to save Frank from dying.” He paused and then asked, for the fifteenth time, “So what is your plan anyways?” 

This time, Figment didn’t bother to respond. Instead, he looked out the windshield, and for once, he saw something. There was a figure in the distance, and just as he leaned in to get a closer look, his phone buzzed. When he took it out of his pocket, he saw that he had a text from Ray. It read, “I’m here.” 

All of a sudden, Figment got out of the car. “Where are you going?” Revenge asked. 

“My friend from the Watch is here,” Figment said. “I’ll be back soon.” 

“Can we meet your friend?” Revenge asked. 

“You already have,” Figment said. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Revenge asked. 

Figment didn’t respond to Revenge’s question. Instead, he closed the door of the Trans Am, and he wandered through the darkness, heading straight for the curly-haired man in the distance. Eventually, when the Trans Am was nothing more than a speck on the horizon, he found Ray. “What took you so long?” Figment asked as he admired Ray’s jacket. 

“I tried to go back to the exact moment when I left, but I guess I didn’t concentrate enough and ended up coming here twelve hours late,” Ray said. “Even after eight years in the Watch, precision travel’s still not my forte.” 

“That’s okay,” Figment said. “I’m just glad you made it.” 

“Me too,” Ray said. 

“So what happened to Mike Pedicone?” Figment asked out of sheer curiosity. 

Ray shrugged. “I handed him over to Billie,” he said. “I’m pretty sure he sent Mike back here, and I can’t tell Frank or Mikey that our drummer stole a time machine, so I’m just going to have to pretend like nothing happened.” 

“But he’s going to steal all our stuff!” Figment exclaimed. 

“That’s not my problem right now,” Ray said. “I can’t punish him for something that he hasn’t done yet, and there’s only so much damage Mike can do if he can’t time travel.” Ray paused and searched around in his pocket, “Speaking of time travel, I have your watch.” 

He handed the time machine to Figment, who promptly strapped it onto his wrist. “Not so fast,” Ray said. “You still need to calibrate it.” 

“How do I do that?” Figment asked. 

Ray took the time machine back and fiddled with it for a few moments, and then he gave it back to Figment. “Alright, now just close your eyes and focus,” Ray said. 

“Focus on what?” Figment asked as he shut his eyes. 

“Yourself,” Ray said. “Don’t think about anyone or anything else. The time machine needs to know that it’s you in there.” 

“Oh right,” Figment said. “This took forever last time I did it.” 

“What did I say about focusing?” Ray said. 

“Well, you’re not helping, Ray!” Figment exclaimed. 

Ray went quiet, and soon, Figment was lost in thought. He drifted across his mental landscape, the worlds that he’d built within his head. He heard gunshots and guitar riffs, birds singing and the voices of the people he loved. He saw bright lights, big crowds, vampires, demons, flames, teenagers, heroes, villains, and so much more, stretching out for miles around him. He felt fear, sadness, anger, apathy, excitement, confusion, shame, happiness, distraction, despair, hope, and love. He felt like himself. 

“I think it’s done,” Ray said. 

Figment opened his eyes and put the watch on. As he returned to reality, he asked, “Do you know of anywhere I can get coffee around here?” 

“Why do you want coffee?” Ray asked. “Can your time machine turn into a mug or something?” Figment pushed a button on the side of his watch, and as it transformed into a coffee mug, Ray laughed. “I know you too well,” he said. 

“Yeah, you do,” Figment said. He turned his time machine back into a watch and strapped it onto his wrist. 

“I should probably go home. I’m sure Christa’s worried sick by now,” Ray said. “Have fun doing...what are you trying to do again?”

“I’m going to save Frank,” Figment said. “He’s going to die in six years.” 

“Listen, I get why you would want to save Frank, but that’s not going to work,” Ray said. “Time is inevitable.” 

“Don’t worry,” Figment said. “I know what I’m doing.” 

Ray shrugged and said, “For your sake, I hope you’re right. I’ll see you around, Gerard.”

“See you, Ray,” Figment said. He walked back to the Trans Am, and when he opened the door, Pepper and Youngblood were asleep, Poison had turned on the car radio and was busy practicing his karaoke skills, and Revenge was complaining about how his eyeshadow had gotten messed up again. “I’ve got the time machine,” Figment told them.

“That’s great, but do you have any more red eyeshadow?” Revenge said. 

“WAKE UP!” Poison screamed at the top of his lungs. 

Youngblood and Pepper bolted awake. “What’s going on?” Youngblood asked. 

“Figment has the time machine,” Poison said. 

“I want to go back to sleep,” Pepper said as he closed his eyes again. 

“You can sleep when you get home,” Poison said, nudging him awake again. “Come on!” 

“But I told you, I can’t sleep at the Paramour,” Pepper said. “I have night terrors.” 

“Let’s just save Frank and go home, okay?” 

“But sleep…sleep is important...”

Figment ignored his past selves and started typing into his watch. All of a sudden, the arguments stopped, and Death Valley went dead silent again. The five of them had vanished once again.


	38. California 2014

When Youngblood opened his eyes, he found himself in another fancy neighborhood in LA. There were houses all along the winding road, but he could immediately point out which one was his. It was the only one that really matched his style: artsy, gothic, a little eccentric. As Youngblood approached his future home, Figment, Revenge, Pepper, and Poison went with him, taking in their surroundings.

“What year is this?” Youngblood asked his future selves as he poked around in the backyard. There were a handful of picnic tables set up, and Frank was busy assembling his vegetarian grill. Youngblood backed away, careful to make sure that Frank didn’t see him, but he occasionally peeked over there, curious to see what was going on. 

“Who cares?” Pepper said. “I want to go back to bed.” 

“Judging by the fact that Los Angeles still exists, it’s definitely before the apocalypse,” Poison said. “My best guess is 2011, but it could be early 2012.” 

“Actually, it’s 2014,” Figment said. 

“2014?” Poison said, confused. “Then how come LA isn’t a pile of rubble? How come I don’t see any advertisements for Better Living Industries? Where are the droids? The dracs? The ray guns?”

Figment stammered, struggling to find an explanation. “Uhh...this neighborhood was pretty unaffected by the apocalypse,” he finally said. “You should see downtown Battery City though. It’s insane.” 

“Oh okay, that makes sense,” Poison said. “You know, I bet the version of me in this era is pretty badass. I’m imagining him driving around in the Trans Am with the rest of MCR, shooting up all the bad guys…” 

While Poison rambled, the door swung open, and the Gerard from 2014 came outside. He was wearing a blue suit and a red tie, and he was carrying a bowl of chips. All of a sudden, he looked straight at Figment. “I was wondering when you’d come back,” he said. 

“It’s nice to see you, Alien,” Figment said. 

Pepper hesitated for a moment before he said, “Alien? Is that a reference to something?” 

“I was thinking the same thing,” Youngblood said. 

“This is not what I expected,” Poison said as he looked at his future self. Like Poison, Alien had bright red hair, but it was much shorter. His whole demeanor seemed different too, although Youngblood couldn’t quite describe how. Surely, Alien was not the fabulous, post-apocalyptic anti-hero that Poison wanted him to be. 

Alien ignored his past selves and turned toward Figment. “I almost forgot about all of this,” he whispered. “Frank’s going to die in two years, isn’t he?” 

Figment nodded. “We don’t have much time left,” he said. 

Alien sighed and said, “Well, we’re going to fix it, right? We’ll stop him from dying.” 

“Exactly,” Figment said. 

“I just wish you guys had come a little earlier,” Alien said. “This really isn’t a great time for me. Everyone’s going to be here soon for the Second Annual Post-MCR Barbeque.” 

Youngblood took a moment to process what Alien had just said. When he realized what this meant, his jaw dropped. He knew that My Chemical Romance wouldn’t live forever. Even when he had first started the band, even before he’d time traveled, he had known that there would come a time when it would stop being something special. There would come a time when his band, his creation, his work of art would need to die, and he knew that time would probably come sooner rather than later. 

But knowing all of that didn’t stop his heart from breaking. 

“Wait a second,” Poison said. “Post-MCR?” 

“Yeah, we broke up,” Alien confirmed. 

Pepper shrugged. “I never really saw My Chemical Romance going past our third album anyways,” he said. 

Poison, on the other hand, was completely shocked. “What do you mean we broke up?” he said. “Everything was going so well!” 

“Figment!” Revenge shouted. “Is it true? Does MCR break up?” 

Figment nodded. “It’s true.”

“I knew we’d break up eventually, but I didn’t think it would be so soon,” Youngblood said. 

“We were together for twelve years,” Alien said. “That’s an awfully long time.” 

“The Smashing Pumpkins were together for twelve years too, and that felt way too short,” Revenge pointed out.

“And then they got back together,” Poison said. “Maybe we’ll do the same thing.” 

“The Smashing Pumpkins got back together?” Revenge said. 

Youngblood smiled when he heard that. “That’s amazing!” he exclaimed. “When does it happen?” 

The Gerards kept on talking about Smashing Pumpkins reunion and whether or not My Chemical Romance would follow their career path, while Figment remained frustratingly silent. Youngblood wished that he would say something, anything, to tell them how it was going to be. Then again, Youngblood supposed he would figure it out eventually. In seventeen years, he would be Figment. He just didn’t want to wait that long to find out what would happen to his band, what would happen to Frank, what would happen to him. 

“Alien?” Poison finally asked. “Would you ever consider getting the band back together?” 

He thought about it, rolled his eyes, and then said, “I don’t think so. We’re a lot happier now that we don’t have to worry about MCR.” 

Alien smiled, but it seemed forced. “Are you sure about that?” Youngblood asked. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” Alien said. “I just finished recording my new album, and frnkiero andthe cellabration announced an album too…” 

“I bet that’s going to be amazing,” Youngblood said. He’d been to plenty of Pencey Prep shows, and he knew that Frank was an incredible musician, with or without My Chemical Romance. 

“Honestly, I would listen to anything Frank made,” Revenge said. “He’s a great guitarist, and I’m probably just holding him back.” 

“Don’t say that!” Pepper exclaimed. 

“Yeah, I’ve listened to Frank’s album,” Alien said. “It’s really, really good.” He paused and then said, “Is it okay if I put this bowl of chips on the table? I’ll be back in a minute.” 

“Sure,” Figment said. 

Alien headed into the backyard, while the others talked amongst themselves. “Something seems off,” Poison said. “Between the MCR breakup and the fact that the apocalypse doesn’t seem to have happened yet…”

“Maybe Figment was messing with you back in 2010,” Pepper suggested. 

“No, he wouldn’t do that,” Poison said, while Figment stifled a laugh. 

“I wonder why the band broke up,” Revenge said. “Knowing us, it was probably something cool. Maybe the zombie apocalypse happened, and we had to shut ourselves in a shopping mall, so we couldn’t play any more shows…” 

“That’s the plot of Dawn of the Dead,” Youngblood said. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes!” 

Pepper yawned and said, “Can we get going already? I want to go back to bed.” 

“Not until Alien comes back,” Figment said. 

Pepper frowned, and Poison said, “Hey Pepper, do you want to go looking for dracs with me? They have to be around here somewhere.” 

“Not really,” Pepper said. 

Poison ignored him and grabbed his arm. “Come on!” Poison said as he dragged Pepper away. “Let’s go!” 

All of a sudden, Alien came back. He was about to say something, but then he spotted a car in the distance, racing toward his house. “Shit,” he said. “You guys are going to have to go inside. I can’t let Lindsey see you.” 

As Alien quickly unlocked the door, Figment took off his watch, transformed it into a coffee mug, and handed it to Alien. “I trust that you’ll take good care of this,” he said. 

“Of course,” Alien said. 

As Lindsey’s car approached, Figment, Pepper, Poison, Youngblood, and Revenge ran inside. They were greeted by Frank’s dogs, but the barking quieted down as Figment shut the door. As soon as they were inside, Youngblood explored the house, fascinated by what he saw. 

“Oh my God,” Youngblood said as he approached a shelf filled with superhero action figures. “Are these collector’s edition? That’s amazing.”

“And did I actually get an Eisner?” Pepper said, standing on his tiptoes to look at the award. 

“Yeah, it was for The Umbrella Academy,” Poison said. 

“I have no idea what an Umbrella Academy is…” Pepper said.

“It’s where they teach you how to use an umbrella, obviously,” Revenge said sarcastically. 

“...but that’s fucking incredible,” Pepper finished. 

All of a sudden, Youngblood spotted something out of the corner of his eye. He walked over to the window, and when Revenge saw him, he asked, “What’s going on?” 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Youngblood said as he watched Alien approach a car parked on the street.

Before long, all five of the Gerards were crowded around the window, trying to see what was going on. Lindsey was in the driver’s seat, looking just as beautiful as she had in 2007. She had rolled the window down, and she and Alien were busy talking, but Youngblood couldn’t quite figure out what they were talking about.

“By the way, I finished listening to that copy of your album that you gave me,” Lindsey said. 

“What did you think?” Alien asked. 

“I thought it was great. It probably wouldn’t hurt to add some more guitars to Zero Zero though.” 

Alien laughed. “That’s what Frank told me.” 

“I guess great minds think alike,” Lindsey said. “How is Frank doing, by the way?” 

“He’s fine,” Alien said. “He’s working on his debut solo album too, so we’ve both been working a lot. We got to take the dogs on a walk last night though, which was really nice.” 

“Fwank?” a small voice said from the backseat. “Where’s Fwank?” 

“I can bring him over if you’d like,” Alien said. “He’s in the backyard.” 

“That’s okay,” Lindsey said. “I should probably get going anyways.” She turned toward the backseat and said, “Bandit? It’s time to get out.” 

“Can I bwing Pansy?” the small voice asked.

Alien gave Lindsey a questioning look. Lindsey sighed and explained, “She was missing Frank, so she made his old guitar out of cardboard.” 

Alien laughed. “Bandit, you should show that to Frank!” he exclaimed. “I’m sure he’ll love it!” 

“Okay!” she exclaimed as she hopped out of the car, still carrying her cardboard guitar. She was about five years old, and she looked surprisingly like Lindsey, although she’d inherited her father’s hazel eyes. 

“Aww, she’s so tiny,” Figment said. 

“She’s so big!” Poison said. “And she’s talking in complete sentences and everything!”

“I’m confused,” Youngblood said. “I’m going to have a kid?” 

“Figment!” Pepper exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell us about this?” 

Figment, as usual, didn’t respond and kept watching out the window.

“Gerard, she’s staying with you until Wednesday, right?” Lindsey said. 

“Yeah, that sounds right,” Alien said as Bandit begged him to play dress-up with her later. 

“Okay,” Lindsey said. “I’ll see you two then. Say hi to everyone for me.” 

“I will,” Alien said. 

“Bye Mom!” Bandit shouted as Lindsey drove away. 

A few moments later, Frank emerged from the backyard. “Hey Gerard, I think I got the grill working,” he said. “You look really nice in that suit, by the way.” 

“Thanks,” Alien said. “I think I might wear it on tour.”

Frank was about to say something, but Bandit interrupted him. “FWANK!” she shouted as she gave him a hug. 

“Hi Bandit,” Frank said. “It’s good to see you.” 

Bandit let go of him and held up her cardboard guitar. “Look Fwank!” she exclaimed. “I made Pansy!” 

Frank smiled and said, “That’s rad.” He turned to Alien and asked, “Gerard, how did you get such an awesome kid?” 

“Are you kidding?” Alien said. “It’s probably just because she hangs around you all the time.” He turned back to Bandit and asked, “So what are we going to do after the barbecue? Dress-up? Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Dungeons and Dwagons!” Bandit exclaimed. 

“Okay, D&D it is,” Alien said. “You know, your Uncle Mikey and I used to play that game all the time when we were younger. He never liked it when I was the Dungeonmaster though.” All of a sudden, another car pulled into Alien’s driveway. “Speak of the devil,” Alien said. “I’m going to get some coffee - I’ll be back soon.” 

“Okay,” Frank said. He kissed Alien’s cheek and then said, “See you in a few minutes.” 

Alien ran inside and went straight into the kitchen. As he filled his mug with coffee, he looked straight at his past selves and said, “You guys weren’t spying on me, were you?” 

“No, definitely not,” Pepper said. 

“Okay, good,” Alien said. “Mikey and his girlfriend are here, and Ray’s family is coming in a few minutes, so I really need you guys to stay out of the way. We’ll time travel after the barbecue is over, okay?” 

“I think we can handle that, Alien,” Figment said. 

Alien took a sip of his coffee and left, while the rest of the Gerards looked toward Figment. “Well, what are we supposed to do now?” Pepper asked. 

Figment sighed and said, “If my memory serves me right, we’re going to be here for a while.” 

Youngblood groaned. They had already gotten stuck once. The last thing he wanted was for it to happen again.


	39. California 2014

“You didn’t actually answer my question, Figment,” Pepper said. “What are we going to do?” 

Figment thought about it, but he could barely concentrate when his stomach was growling like this. He hadn’t eaten since he had left 2019, and now, he was suffering for it. “I don’t know, but I’m hungry,” he said. “Let’s get something to eat.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Poison said. 

“Are you kidding?” Youngblood said. “I’m starving!” 

“You know, if things get really desperate, we could just eat Poison,” Revenge suggested.

“Fuck you!” Poison shouted. 

While the others argued over what to do, Revenge took matters into his own hands and started digging around in the refrigerator. “Still no vodka?” he complained as he rummaged through Alien and Frank’s food. 

Figment sighed and asked, “Is there anything else in there?” 

“Uhh...let’s see,” Revenge said. “There’s a couple of sandwiches, some pasta, some chocolate cake…” 

“Cake sounds good to me,” Pepper said. 

“Yeah, me too,” Youngblood said. 

“I was kind of hoping that we could have an actual meal, not just dessert, and besides, Frank’s going to be mad if we eat the whole cake without him,” Figment said. All of a sudden, his stomach growled again. He was in no position to complain. “Alright,” he said. “Chocolate cake it is.” 

Revenge took the cake out of the refrigerator and cut it into pieces, leaving the biggest slice for himself. “How is that fair?” Youngblood asked as Revenge put almost half of the cake onto his plate and immediately started eating. 

“Just a small slice for me, Revenge,” Poison said. “I’m on a diet.” 

“Starving yourself for two days is not ‘going on a diet,’ Poison,” Figment said. 

“Quit lecturing me,” Poison said. 

Figment was done. He’d said that to himself many times before, but he swore it was true this time. He wouldn’t put up with his past selves and their bullshit any longer. He could leave them all behind and go to 2016 by himself. 

Then, he glanced out the window. Bandit was pretending to play her cardboard guitar, and Frank was standing next to her, showing off his best air guitar moves. Watching them almost brought a tear to his eye. He still couldn’t get over how small Bandit was, how Frank loved her as if she was his own child, how perfectly he fit into his strange little family. 

As he watched them, he remembered why he had gone back in time in the first place. 

Figment looked back at Poison, and he decided to have some sympathy for him. Nine years ago, he had been in his exact position, and besides, he needed Poison’s help if he was going to save Frank. 

“I’m just telling you things that I wish I knew earlier,” Figment said to his younger self.

Poison kept on complaining, but he reluctantly took a few bites of the cake. Meanwhile, Figment wolfed down his food. The cake was sweet and delicious, and his past selves looked like they were enjoying it too. 

“We might want to find a better place to hide,” Figment suggested as soon as he was done eating. “Someone could walk in and find us at any moment.” 

“Who cares?” Poison said. “All they’d see is me being fabulous, and I don’t see any problem with that.” 

“Yeah, but imagine trying to explain why there are five people named Gerard Way in the kitchen,” Pepper said. “I’m with Figment. We can’t let the others find us, and we need to find a better hiding spot if we’re going to do that.” 

Figment couldn’t tell his past selves, but there was another reason why they needed to get out of the kitchen. Ray was at the barbecue, and he was in the Watch. If he found out that the five of them were here, they would all be in trouble. Sure, Ray had helped them four years ago, but Figment couldn’t risk another run-in with the Watch. He'd already wasted enough of his time machine’s battery trying to outrun Billie. He didn’t want Ray trying to hunt him down too. 

“Follow me,” Figment said as he walked down the hall, went upstairs, and opened a door. The others filed into the master bedroom, and Figment locked the door behind them. “I think we’ll be safe in here,” he said. 

That was when Revenge started looking through Alien’s closet. “How many blue suits do I have in the future?” he said when he found an entire section filled with them. “I mean, whatever happened to black? Black’s a nice color, right Pepper?” 

“Yes, but you probably shouldn’t be going through Alien’s stuff,” Pepper pointed out. 

“Technically, it’s _my_ stuff,” Revenge said. “So it’s okay.” 

Meanwhile, Poison started posing with his ray gun again. “Why did you even bring that with you?” Pepper asked. 

“Because I felt like it,” Poison said. “Besides, maybe it will come in handy when we get out of this place and we can actually see the post-apocalyptic wasteland.” 

Figment sighed as he sat down on the bed. “I still don’t get why you _want_ to live through the apocalypse,” he said. 

“Because it’ll be fun!” Poison exclaimed. All of a sudden, he started singing and dancing again. “I can't slow down! I won't be waiting for you! I can't stop now because I'm dancing!” 

“Poison, be quiet,” Pepper said. “They’re going to find us if you keep that up.” 

“Pepper’s right,” Figment said. 

Poison frowned and sat down next to Figment. “Can I dance at least?” he asked. 

“Go for it,” Figment said. 

Poison went back to dancing around the room and striking sassy poses, while Revenge emerged from the closet. “Hey Figment, I’ve got a question,” he said. 

“Sure, what is it?” 

“Why didn’t you tell us that you had a kid?” 

Figment paused for a moment and then said, “I was afraid that she would get hurt if you knew.” 

“Figment, why would we hurt your daughter?” Pepper said. “We’re not psychos.” 

“We just like psychotic things,” Revenge said. 

“Hey, that’s what I was going to say!” Pepper said. He high-fived Revenge, while Figment stared into the distance. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “I know you guys wouldn’t do anything to her intentionally.” 

“So what did you mean?” Pepper asked. 

“You’ll understand someday,” Figment said. “You’ll understand what it’s like to be a father. You’ll understand what it is to love your daughter unconditionally, to hope that you’re making the right choices for her, to hold her life in your hands, and then I think you’ll get why I didn’t want to tell you about her. I don’t want her to get mixed up in this. No matter how this mission goes, I can’t let anything happen to Bandit.” 

Figment wasn’t sure that he had put it the right way, so he looked to Poison, who immediately stopped dancing and froze in place. 

“Poison!” Pepper exclaimed before Poison could say anything. “Why didn’t you tell us?” 

Poison shrugged. “I would have told you,” he said. “You just didn’t ask.” 

“So does this mean I can’t use Bandit as a blood sacrifice to resurrect Frank?” Revenge said. “Because I really think that might work.” 

Figment shook his head and said, “And that’s the other reason why I didn’t tell you.” 

That was when Poison held his ray gun to Revenge’s head. “Take back whatever you just said about sacrificing my daughter to the devil, or I swear I’ll shoot,” he said. 

“I know that’s not a real gun,” Revenge said, looking more bored than anything. 

“I don’t care!” Poison shouted. “I’ll strangle you with my bare hands if I have to! Take it back!”

All of a sudden, Figment heard footsteps coming from downstairs. “Poison, be quiet,” he whispered. “Someone’s here.” 

Everyone went silent, but the footsteps disappeared. “That was weird,” Pepper said. 

“Yeah, but I think we’re safe now,” Figment said. He turned to Revenge and Poison. “You two need to be nice to each other. Poison, you were Revenge not that long ago, and Revenge, you’ll become Poison one day, whether you like it or not. Can you two please just put up with each other until we save Frank?”

“How much longer is that going to be anyways?” Revenge asked. “Are we going anywhere else before we go to 2016?” 

“Yeah, I’d like to know that too,” Poison said. “I still have to fix my car in 2010, and I’m sure Frank is waiting for me…” 

Figment didn’t respond. He was done with answering questions, done with all of this. All he could think about was seeing Frank again. 

“Come on, Figment,” Pepper said. “Can’t you at least tell us how much longer the barbecue’s going to be?” 

Figment looked back at his past selves, still staying quiet. There was Poison, with his trusty ray gun by his side. There was Pepper, wearing his black marching band jacket. There was Revenge, adjusting his tie and trying not to smudge his eyeliner. Alien was outside, hosting the barbecue, but someone was missing. 

“Wait a second,” Figment said. “Where did Youngblood go?”


	40. California 2014

Youngblood was hiding in a closet on the first floor, hoping that the barbecue wouldn’t last too long. Figment had told him that they needed a better place to hide, and he figured that this was good enough. It was dark and crowded, but at least he was safe. As long as he stayed quiet, nobody would find him here. He just didn’t want to be stuck in the closet for any longer than he had to be. 

As his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized what was in here. There were sketchbooks, dozens of them, stretching all the way back to when he was a teenager. Youngblood randomly picked one up, and he started flipping through it, in awe of his future self’s drawing skills. There were characters that he hadn’t invented, clever snippets of dialogue that he hadn’t written, stories that he hadn’t created yet. As he flipped through the sketchbook, he saw them coming to life before him, these comics that he hadn’t written yet. For once, Youngblood was excited for the future. He couldn’t wait to see what he would create someday. 

All of a sudden, Youngblood heard his voice echoing throughout the house. “I can’t slow down! I won’t be waiting for you! I can’t stop now because I’m dancing!” 

Youngblood wasn’t sure which of his future selves was singing, but his best guess was Poison. He wondered where the others were: the voice sounded like it was coming from upstairs, but he wasn’t certain. It didn’t matter though. The singing quickly stopped, and as soon as the house went silent again, he kept looking through the collection of sketchbooks. 

He really couldn’t believe his eyes. He found the sketchbook that he was working on back in 2002, the pages starting to yellow, but there was so much more. There was one signed by Stan Lee. There was another with a sketch of Poison’s outfit. There were probably a million drawings of Frank. He was playing the guitar, playing with a puppy, singing, getting a new tattoo, smiling, holding his hand. Youngblood found a particularly detailed drawing of Frank, and he traced the lines of his face. His future self was a talented artist, but even he couldn’t quite capture just how beautiful Frank was in real life. Soon, Youngblood found himself daydreaming again, imagining what it would be like to fall in love with Frank Iero. 

Who was he kidding? He was already in love with him. 

All of a sudden, he heard one of his future selves shouting again. “I don’t care! I’ll strangle you with my bare hands if I have to! Take it back!” Youngblood didn’t know what was going on up there, and he didn’t think he wanted to know. 

He put the sketchbooks back in order, but as he carefully straightened out the shelves, he heard footsteps. Someone was here. He froze, but he heard two familiar voices, and they seemed to be coming closer. 

“Frank, it’s okay if you don’t have it,” Mikey said. 

“I swear it’s around here somewhere,” Frank said. “I know I kept what’s left of Pansy, and I’ll show it to Bandit if it kills me.” 

Mikey sighed and said, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Frank said. “It’s probably just buried under Gerard’s comic books.” 

Mikey laughed and said, “Probably. He has way too many of those.”

Youngblood wanted to say that there was no such thing as too many comic books, but he thought better of it and stayed quiet. He couldn’t let Mikey and Frank find him.

“You know what?” Frank said. “I bet it’s in the closet.” 

“You should have brought Gerard with you instead,” Mikey said. “He might actually know where your guitar is.” 

“Yeah, probably,” Frank said as he opened up the closet. “Okay, maybe Pansy’s not in here,” he said. “It’s just a bunch of Gerard’s sketchbooks and…” 

All of a sudden, Mikey and Frank noticed Youngblood. “What the hell?” Mikey said. 

Youngblood shrank away from Frank and Mikey, but it was no use. They’d already seen him. There was no going back now. 

He looked at his brother and his future boyfriend for a moment. Frank was just as beautiful as he always was - he’d aged like a fine wine - but Youngblood was still getting used to the fact that Mikey, his little brother, was now much older than him. He barely recognized him with his new haircut and without his glasses. Both Mikey and Frank looked more confused than anything, and Youngblood wondered how the hell he was going to explain this to them. 

“Who are you?” Frank asked Youngblood. 

“I mean, he looks like Gerard, doesn’t he?” Mikey said. “He even has that leather jacket that Gerard used to wear all the time.” 

“Yeah,” Frank said. “He looks exactly like Gerard did when we started the band. When we first got together.” He paused and looked at Youngblood one more time. “But that doesn’t explain what he’s doing in the closet.” 

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s actually a passageway to Narnia or something?” Mikey said half-jokingly. 

Frank reached his hand into the closet, and to his disappointment, he did not end up in Narnia, so he turned back to Youngblood for an explanation. “Seriously, who the fuck are you?” he asked. 

“I’m Gerard,” Youngblood said. 

“No, you’re not,” Frank said. 

“He even sounds like Gerard,” Mikey said, trying to imitate his brother’s voice. “Isn’t that weird, Frank?” 

“You do look a lot like him,” Frank said to Youngblood. “It’s a little freaky, now that I think about it. I’d believe you if you said that you were Gee’s long-lost brother or something, but you’re obviously not him.” 

“I hope he’s not my brother,” Mikey said. “I love Gerard, but the last thing I need is another one of him.” 

“I’m serious,” Youngblood said. “I’m Gerard. I time traveled here from 2002.” 

Frank and Mikey exchanged a look. Then, Mikey turned to Youngblood and said, “You’re serious? This isn’t some kind of elaborate prank?” Youngblood nodded, so Mikey asked, “What was my first concert?” 

“The Smashing Pumpkins,” Youngblood said. “You pirated Disney movies to pay for it, and somebody mistook me for Billy Corgan while we were waiting in line to get into the venue.” 

“What was the dumbest thing I did as a kid?” 

“All the times you almost got yourself electrocuted,” Youngblood said. “For the record, you still do that sometimes.” 

“True,” Mikey admitted. “What are the lyrics to Helena?” 

“Helena?” Youngblood said. “Like the Misfits song?” 

“Wow, you really did time travel here,” Mikey said, amazed. “That’s crazy.” 

“I have a lot of questions,” Frank said. 

“Me too,” Mikey said. 

“Like why did you come here?” Frank said. “Does Gerard - the other Gerard, not you - does he know you’re here? How does time travel work anyways?” He smiled and then said, “Tell us everything.” 

Youngblood hesitated, but when he saw Frank smile, he just couldn’t resist.

He told them everything. 

He talked for a long time, telling Frank and Mikey about how Figment showed up at the album release party, how he’d said that Frank would die in 2016 unless they saved him, how they’d gone on this whirlwind journey through time together. Mikey stood there, stone-faced, while Frank constantly interrupted Youngblood, asking him a million questions that he didn’t know the answer to. Sometimes, he questioned whether he’d done the right thing, telling Frank and Mikey about this. He knew that the Watch would never allow it, and Figment would kill him if he ever found out, but it felt good to get this off of his chest. He could finally share his secret with two of his favorite people in the world. 

When Youngblood was done, Frank went silent for a moment. “So I’m going to die in two years,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Youngblood said. 

Frank had a sad, faraway look on his face as he contemplated his life, a life that was soon to be cut short. Youngblood wanted nothing more than to comfort him, to reach over, give him a hug, and tell him that everything was going to be okay, even if he wasn’t sure that it would be. His heart was breaking for Frank, suddenly aware of his own mortality. It was one thing to know that you would die someday, but another thing altogether to know that your days were numbered. 

“Actually, I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Mikey said suddenly. 

“Mikey, did you listen to anything Gerard from 2002 said?” Frank said. “I’m going to die in a bus crash in 2016, and Gerard from 2019’s trying to save me, but if that doesn’t work…” 

“I was listening,” Mikey said. “I don’t think you’re going to die.” He paused and then turned to Youngblood. “I’m going to be honest with you, 2002 Gerard. Something about your story doesn’t add up.” 

“I’m confused,” Youngblood said. “What are you talking about?” 

“Future Gerard...you called him Figment, right?” Mikey said. Youngblood nodded. “Figment traveled back in time to save Frank, but if he succeeds, Frank will live and he will have no motivation to travel back in time. It’s a classic time paradox. He has to fail and let Frank die, and it’s quite possible that he was the one who caused Frank’s death in the first place.” 

Frank shuddered and said, “I hope that’s not true.” 

“But Gerard’s too smart for that,” Mikey said. “He wouldn’t make a plan that will inevitably result in Frank dying. The simplest explanation is that he lied to you.” 

Youngblood took a moment to process this, but it didn’t make any sense to him. “Why would Figment lie about something like that?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” Mikey said. 

“And why did he travel back in time if Frank didn’t die in 2016?” Youngblood asked. 

“I don’t know that either,” Mikey said. “Maybe there’s something else he wants to do in 2016. Maybe Frank lived, but he realized that the only reason that he survived was because he traveled back in time. Maybe he’s just doing this for fun.” 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Frank said. 

“This whole situation doesn’t make sense,” Mikey said. “Anyways, there are a lot of possible explanations for why Figment went back in time, but Frank, I think you’re going to be okay.” 

All of a sudden, there was a distraught expression on Frank’s face. “Oh God,” he said, horrified. “I think I know what’s going to happen in 2016. And it’s not pretty.” 

“What is it?” Youngblood asked. 

“You heard about the story behind Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge, right?” Frank said. 

“Is that the thing Revenge keeps talking about?” Youngblood asked. “The one with the man and the woman and the corpses of a thousand evil men?” 

Frank nodded. “Do you know how that story ends?” he asked. Youngblood shook his head. “The man realizes that he’s the thousandth evil soul, so he has to kill himself to resurrect his girlfriend.” 

“I’m confused,” Youngblood said. “What does this have to do with anything?” 

“You can’t just bring someone back from the dead without any repercussions,” Frank said. “I think Mikey’s right. Figment’s lying to you. That’s why he won’t tell you his plan. Because he knows that someone has to die in that crash. He’s going to trade his life for mine. He’s going to sacrifice himself so that I can live.” 

Youngblood thought about it for a minute. It explained a lot - why Figment had gone back in time without Watch approval, why he wanted to say goodbye to Frank one last time back in 2004, why he wouldn’t tell his past selves what he was up to - but there were a few things that didn’t add up. “But he always seems so confident that he’s going to get to go home and see you,” Youngblood said. 

“That’s just what he wants you to think,” Frank said. 

“And why does he need us to come along if he’s just going to sacrifice himself?” Youngblood asked. 

“I don’t know,” Frank said. All of a sudden, he started crying. “I don’t know what Future Gerard’s up to. I just...I just can’t imagine losing him. I would rather die than go through that.” 

All of a sudden, Youngblood wrapped his arms around Frank and gave him a hug. A few minutes later, Mikey made it into a group hug, like the awkward third wheel that he was. “Thanks, Gee. Thanks, Mikey,” Frank said. “I really needed that.” 

“No problem,” Youngblood said as he let go of Frank. 

“Can you promise me something, Gerard from 2002?” Frank asked as he wiped his tears away. 

“Sure,” Youngblood said. 

“Promise me that if Figment tries to sacrifice himself, you’re going to try to stop him,” Frank said. “I don’t want to die, but living without you isn’t really living. So don’t even think about saving me. Save yourself first.” 

Youngblood nodded. “I promise I’ll stop him,” he said. 

“Thank you,” Frank said. “It means a lot.” 

“Hey Frank, we should probably get back to the barbecue,” Mikey said. 

“Seriously, Mikey?” Frank said. “I just found out that Gerard can time travel, and that I have two years left to live, and you’re telling me that we need to get back to the barbecue?” 

“We’ve been in here for a while,” Mikey said. “Gerard…” Youngblood perked up when he heard his name. “Not you, the other Gerard. Gerard and Ray are probably wondering where we are by now.” 

“Good point,” Frank said. “One last thing, Gerard from 2002. I want you to know that I’m still your biggest fan, even after all these years, and even if my life’s going to be short, I’m really glad that I spent it with you. I don’t think I had the guts to say this in 2002, but I’ll say it now. I love you, Gerard.”

“I love you too, Frank,” Youngblood said, surprised by how easily those words slipped off of his tongue. 

“Come on, Frank,” Mikey said. “Let’s go.” 

He shut the closet door, and all of a sudden, Youngblood was alone with his sketchbooks again. His heart felt like it was going to explode, but there was a deep sorrow there too, now that he knew what Figment was up to, how sinister his plan really was. 

He curled up on the ground, afraid of what could happen in 2016. He didn’t want to watch Frank die. He didn’t know how he would deal with the pain. He knew it was selfish, but he wanted a few extra minutes, hours, years with Frank, no matter what the cost was. He had to put Frank first though. He’d made a promise to him, promised that he’d let him die rather than put him through the heartbreak of losing Figment. 

Youngblood had to stop Figment. There was no question about that. He just didn’t know how he would do it.


	41. California 2014

The Second Annual Post-MCR Barbecue was in full swing. Frank was grilling veggie burgers, Ray and his wife were entertaining the kids, Mikey was too busy talking to his girlfriend to pay attention to anything, and Alien was sitting there and sulking. 

He knew that he should be happy. He thought that he would be by now. He’d defeated his demons, he’d chosen his health over his art, he’d broken up the band when it stopped being something special, when it was only hurting him. It had been over a year since they’d called it quits, and Alien was working on a new project, one that felt fresh and exciting and different from anything he’d done before. He knew that he should be happy, but every time he smiled, it felt forced. Maybe it was just because all of his bandmates were here. Maybe it was just because being with them was digging up old memories. 

“Burgers are ready!” Frank exclaimed. Everyone rushed over to get one, and once they all had their food, the four ex-members of My Chemical Romance decided to sit together. 

“It’s good to see you guys,” Ray said. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Alien said as he sipped his coffee. “The last few months have been pretty hectic for me.” 

“Me too, but at least I have Gerard to get me through it,” Frank said. 

“Aww, thanks Frank,” Alien said. He gave Frank a quick peck on the lips, while Mikey rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Mikey. You and Kristin are even worse about PDA.” 

“We are not!” Mikey exclaimed. 

“Yes, you are.” 

“Quit bickering, you two,” Ray said. “I’ve been listening to the music you guys have released, by the way. It’s really amazing.” 

“Thanks, Ray,” Alien said. 

“Yeah, it means a lot,” Mikey said. “I still need to finish that Electric Century album one of these days though…” 

“Do it,” Alien said. “‘I Lied’ was awesome.” 

“Thanks,” Mikey said. “I’ll release more music…eventually. I don’t think you can bug me about it until you finish Hotel Oblivion though.” 

“I’m working on it! I swear!” 

“He says he’s working on the next volume of Umbrella Academy, but then I usually find him working on something else or just tweeting about comics instead of writing them,” Frank injected. 

“Frank! That is not true!” Alien exclaimed.

“It’s true,” Frank said. 

“Okay, maybe it’s a little true,” Alien admitted. 

“It’s okay,” Mikey said. “You can take your time. I just want to find out what happens.” 

“Mikey, I don’t know if I say this enough, but you’re my favorite brother,” Alien said. 

“I’m your only brother,” Mikey pointed out. 

“Exactly.” 

All of a sudden, Bandit ran up to their table. “Fwank!” she exclaimed. “Watch this!” 

She pretended to play her cardboard guitar, and Frank soon joined in. Ray and Mikey kept talking, but Alien paid no attention to them as he watched his daughter and his boyfriend. It warmed his heart to see the two of them playing together, and he thought about just how lucky he was to have both of them in his life. 

Alien finished his food and drank his coffee, while Frank kept on playing with Bandit. “Wait a second,” Frank said. “I think I still have Pansy somewhere. Do you want to see it, Bandit?” 

“Yeah!” she exclaimed. 

“Okay, I’ll go get it for you,” Frank said. 

“Uhh...maybe that’s not a great idea?” Alien said as he set his coffee mug down on the table. He’d told the other Gerards to hide, but he wasn’t sure if they’d listened to him, and he didn’t know what would happen if Frank found out about his other selves, about time travel. 

“No, Dad!” Bandit said, pouting. “I wanna see Pansy!” 

Alien sighed. “Fine,” he said. 

“Mikey, do you want to come with me?” Frank asked. 

“I guess so,” Mikey said. 

Alien watched Frank and Mikey go inside, and he wondered how Youngblood, Revenge, Pepper, Poison, and Figment were doing. He knew he’d traveled here before, but he couldn’t remember it, no matter how hard he tried. Those memories were long gone. 

Two years. He had two years left before the bus crash, before he’d lose Frank if Figment’s crazy plan didn’t work. He thought of the twisting metal, the cracking bones, the price he would have to pay if they couldn’t save Frank. He couldn’t let Frank die. He didn’t know how he’d live without him. He didn’t know if he would live at all, or if he’d just fall into pieces. What would he do without the love of his life? What would Bandit do? Would she grieve with him, or would she grow up, with Frank nothing but a distant memory to her? 

Two years wasn’t enough time. Then again, this was Frank he was talking about. Alien suspected that he could spend an eternity with him, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“Are you okay, Gerard?” Ray suddenly asked. “Is there something going on?” 

Alien didn’t answer. Those images were still flashing through his mind. He could see it now: Frank’s lifeless body in his arms, the light behind his eyes gone forever. He’d known for a long time that the accident would happen, but now that he didn’t have much time left, he was more scared than ever that something would go wrong, that he would have to face life without Frank Iero. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Alien finally said. 

Ray shrugged and said, “Okay.” 

“I think I’m going to go get more coffee,” Alien said as Ray took another bite out of his burger. He reached for his coffee mug, but it wasn’t there. Alien cursed under his breath as he quickly searched around for the mug, knowing that Figment would probably kill him if he found out that he’d lost the time machine. 

“Hey Ray, have you seen my coffee mug?” Alien asked. 

“No,” Ray said. “I’ll help you look though.” 

“That would be great,” Alien said. He got up and went to each table, carefully checking to see if anyone had seen a coffee mug. “It couldn’t have gone far,” he said to Ray after both Kristin and Christa claimed that they hadn’t seen his mug anywhere. “I had it just a minute ago.” 

All of a sudden, Bandit ran up to Alien, clutching his coffee mug. “Hey Bandit, could I have that back please?” Alien asked. 

“No!” Bandit shouted. 

“Why not?” 

“There’s Show and Tell on Monday, and I wanna bwing this,” Bandit said. 

“Bandit, I have a lot of coffee mugs,” Alien said. “You could bring one of the other ones. Maybe you could take my Star Wars mug? You like that one, right?” 

“No!” Bandit exclaimed. “This one!” 

“Bandit, you don’t get it,” Alien said. “I need that one.” 

“No! I need it!” 

“I can’t do anything unless I have my coffee.” 

“But I need it for Show and Tell!” 

“Bandit, give that back,” Alien said. 

“No.”

Alien sighed. He hated to discipline his daughter over something like this, but he also couldn’t risk Bandit taking Figment’s time machine. “I’m going to count to three, and you haven’t given me my mug back, then you’re going to your room,” he said. “One…” 

“NO! IT’S MY MUG!” 

“Two…” 

“Ooh, what does this button on the side do?” Bandit asked, her tiny fingers hovering over the button. 

“Don’t you dare touch that!” Alien shouted. 

“Why?” 

“Because I said so. Could you please just give me my mug back?” 

“No.” 

That was when Alien reached over and tried to take the time machine away from her. He had no choice. He had to get it back before she did something dangerous with the time machine, before she got hurt. However, as he pried her fingers off of the handle, she started to cry. He backed away suddenly as she tightly held onto the coffee mug and sobbed. 

Alien stood there for a few minutes, but once her tears died down a little bit, he gave her a hug. “Shh...it’s going to be okay,” he said. “Can I please have my coffee mug back though?” 

“No,” Bandit said. 

All of a sudden, Frank and Mikey came back into the backyard. Apparently, they hadn’t found Pansy, but they both looked quite sad. Frank’s eyes were red and puffy, as if he’d been crying. Alien wondered what had happened in there, but he figured he’d get an explanation later. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Mikey said. “You two annoy me sometimes, but I can’t imagine life without either of you.” 

“You’ll be alright,” Frank said. He paused and then added, “You know, as awful as that was, I’m glad that we got to talk to him.” 

“Me too,” Mikey said. “I kind of miss those days, back when we first started My Chem.” 

“Yeah, same,” Frank said. 

“I remember when I first joined MCR, and Gerard literally would not shut up about you,” Mikey said. “I’d ask him something about how to play the bass, and he’d just go on and on about how he was designing T-shirts with Frank Iero. You weren’t even in the band yet, and he was already obsessed with you.” 

Frank smiled and said, “I never knew about that.” 

“Well, it’s true.” 

Alien, for one, had no clue what they were talking about. He was still trying to get Bandit to give him the time machine back, but she wouldn’t budge. “Bandit, I’m begging you,” he said. “Give me that mug back.” 

Bandit wasn’t listening. “Fwank!” she exclaimed as soon as she saw him. 

“Hi Bandit,” Frank said, smiling. 

“Where’s Pansy?” Bandit asked. “You said you would get Pansy.” 

“I couldn’t find it,” Frank said. “I’m sorry.” 

Bandit pouted, and Alien said, “Hey Frank, could you tell Bandit to give me my coffee mug back? She seems to listen to you.” 

“Bandit, give Gerard his mug back,” Frank said. 

“No,” Bandit said. 

“Why do you need it anyways?” Frank whispered to Alien. “Couldn’t you just get another one?” 

“Trust me, I need this one,” Alien said. 

Frank turned back to Bandit and said, “Could you please give Gerard his mug back?” 

“But Show and Tell!” 

“That’s a pretty good argument,” Frank said to Alien. “How about this? Bandit gets to keep the mug, and I’ll brew you some coffee to make up for it. I’ll make it just the way you like it.” 

Normally, that would have sounded like a good idea, but Alien needed that coffee mug. He wanted to explain it all to Frank, but he had no idea what would happen if he did. He vaguely remembered Figment telling him something about telling other people about time travel being illegal, and he didn’t want to risk it. 

He looked back at Bandit, who was busy telling Frank about her grand plans to name the mug Cuppy and introduce it to her other toys before she brought it to Show and Tell on Monday. Alien knew that he had to find a way to get that mug back before Figment returned. He couldn’t screw this up now, not when they were so close to saving Frank, and more than that, he couldn’t let Bandit play around with something as dangerous as a time machine. He should have been more careful, but there was nothing that he could do about that now. He just had to get the time machine back before something went horribly wrong.


	42. California 2014

Youngblood was alone with his sketchbooks when he heard footsteps again. This time, however, he heard his own voice echoing through the hall as the footsteps came closer.

“Is the barbecue over yet?” 

“I hope so. We’ve been stuck here for forever.” 

“Why didn’t you make that deal with the devil like I suggested?” 

“Why is that your solution to everything?!” 

“I think the barbecue’s over, but even if it’s not, we need to find Youngblood.” 

“Right.” 

“Yeah, we can’t just leave him here. It’s, what, eleven years in the future for him?” 

“No, Pepper, it’s fourteen years. Learn how to do math already.”

“I’m going to text him,” one of the Gerards said. Youngblood thought that it was Figment, but he still wasn’t quite sure which Gerard was which. They all sounded the same. He peeked out of the closet, and sure enough, Figment had pulled out his cell phone, while Revenge peeked over his shoulder. 

“Why do you have wheat as your lock screen?” Revenge asked. 

“It’s calming,” Figment answered. 

“But there’s literally nothing to be calm about right now!” Revenge exclaimed. “Youngblood’s gone, Frank’s going to die, and I _still_ don’t have anything to drink!” 

Figment ignored Revenge and gazed longingly at his field of wheat. As he opened up his phone and started texting Youngblood, Poison said to his older self, “You can’t just text him, dumbass. He has a flip phone.” 

Figment sighed, looked at his wheat lock screen one more time, and then put his phone back into his pocket. “You’re right, but what are we going to do?” he asked. 

“YOUNGBLOOD!” Poison screamed. “Tell us where you are, or Revenge is going to come and suck your blood!”

Meanwhile, Pepper was busy opening every door in the house in a desperate attempt to search for Youngblood. “Whoa, I have a whole room for my comic book collection!” he said. “That’s awesome!” He then turned around and opened the door to the closet. 

Youngblood stepped out, feeling a little disoriented. The bright lights in the house blinded him as he approached his future selves. “There you are,” Figment said when he saw him. “We were looking for you.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Youngblood said. 

“Why on earth were you in there?” Pepper asked. 

“Figment said to hide,” Youngblood said. 

“He also said to follow him,” Poison said. “You’ve got to listen better.” 

“Come on,” Figment said. “Let’s go find Alien, and then we can get out of this era.” 

The five of them went over to the window, and sure enough, it looked like the barbecue was over. Alien and Frank were the only ones in the backyard, and they were putting the tables away and disassembling the grill. 

“We’re going to have to sneak past Frank if we want to talk to Alien,” Figment said. 

“And how are we going to do that exactly?” Poison asked. Revenge opened his mouth to say something, but then Poison said, “If your suggestion involves making a deal with the devil, I am going to strangle you.” 

“No, I was going to say that we should paint the whole house jet black,” Revenge said. “It will be so cool that Alien will have no choice but to come inside and time travel with us.” 

“I like that idea,” Youngblood said. 

“Me too,” Pepper said. 

“That’s an even worse idea than the deal with the devil,” Poison said. 

“What if I die and become a ghost, but I stick around to haunt Frank while the rest of you go to the next era?” 

“I’m not letting you die, Revenge.” 

“What if we all say ‘so long and thanks for all the fish’ and blast off into space like those dolphins in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy?” 

“No.” 

“What if I claim that I am the master of the wicket, and then Frank tackles me, and while he’s distracted, Figment takes us all to wherever we’re going next?” 

“Still no,” Poison said, while Figment just laughed. 

“Why don’t you like any of my ideas, Poison?” Revenge asked. 

“Because they’re all really bad.” 

“No, they’re not.” 

As Revenge and Poison bickered, the others watched Alien and Frank through the window. While Alien talked to his boyfriend on the other side of the glass, Youngblood thought about what Frank had told him, the promise that he’d made. He had to stop Figment from sacrificing himself, but he still had no idea how he’d do it. At this rate, Figment would die, and Frank would be stuck in his own personal hell: a life without the only person he’d ever truly loved. Every time Youngblood looked at Frank, his heart broke just a little bit more. He had to help him. He only wished that he knew how. 

“We need a real plan,” Poison said. “We need a way to get Alien’s attention without letting Frank know we’re here.” 

“No, we don’t,” Youngblood said. 

All four of the other Gerards turned and looked at him. “What are you talking about, Youngblood?” Figment said. “Last time I checked, Frank didn’t know we were here, and I’d like to keep it that way.” 

It was too late to take those words back, so Youngblood figured that he might as well own up to his mistakes. “Frank knows we’re here,” he said. “I told him.” 

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Figment said angrily. 

“Frank and Mikey found me in the closet,” Youngblood said. “I had to tell them something.” 

“You told Mikey too?!” Figment shouted. He sighed and said, “You’re lucky the Watch didn’t catch you, Youngblood. You have to be more careful, but at least this means that Frank might be able to help us.” He paused and looked out the window one more time. “No wonder he looks so sad. He just found out that he’s going to die soon."

“But we’re going to stop that from happening, right?” Pepper said. 

“Of course,” Figment said. 

The Gerards went back to looking out the window and spying on Alien. He talked to Frank for a little while longer, but all of a sudden, Bandit ran out from behind a tree, holding onto Figment’s coffee mug. 

“What the hell?” Figment shouted. He paced around the kitchen, looking absolutely furious. “I trusted Alien with my time machine, and he gave it to Bandit! We can’t get stuck here, not when we’re so close! Why can’t I do _anything_ right?!” 

“I hope she doesn’t figure out how to use that thing,” Poison said nervously. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if she time traveled somewhere and got hurt.” 

“That won’t happen,” Figment said. “The time machine’s calibrated to my brain waves. Nobody else can use it.” He paused and added, “I’m more worried about not being able to get the machine back. We have to leave this era at some point, and we can’t do that unless we have the time machine.” 

“So what are we going to do?” Pepper asked.

“We could…” Revenge began. 

“No, Revenge,” Poison interrupted.

“You didn’t even let me finish!” 

Figment thought about it while Revenge and Poison argued. “I’ve got it,” he finally said. “Youngblood, you’ve already told Frank about time travel, so you’re going to go out there and get the time machine back. Once we’ve got it, you and Alien are going to come back inside, and we’re going to time travel to 2016.” 

“Okay,” Youngblood said, but on the inside, he was terrified. They couldn’t go to 2016, not before he’d come up with a plan to keep Figment from dying. He decided to stall a bit to buy himself more time, to find a way to unravel Figment’s plan. He slowly walked out the door, his heart pounding and his mind racing. 

Frank and Alien both noticed him as soon as he was outside. “Youngblood, what are you doing?” Alien said quietly. “Get back inside.” 

“Hey Gerard from 2002,” Frank said. “What are you doing out here?” 

Alien turned to Frank. “How do you know him?” he asked. 

“I talked to him earlier,” Frank said. “Right?” Youngblood nodded as Frank looked toward the house. “Ooh, and are those the other Gerards? I think I see one from the Black Parade era - that was a fun album - and is that you as Party Poison, Gee? You were pretty hot back then, but I think you’re even more beautiful now.” 

Alien blushed and said, “Thanks.” 

Frank quickly blew a kiss to the other Gerards and then turned back to Alien and Youngblood. “So what are you doing here?” he asked Youngblood. 

“I...uhh…” Youngblood stammered in a desperate attempt to buy more time. 

Revenge suddenly opened the window, leaned out, and shouted, “HURRY UP ALREADY, YOUNGBLOOD!” before Figment pulled him back inside. 

“I thought you should know that Alien’s mug is actually our time machine, and we kind of need it back,” Youngblood said. 

“Seriously, Youngblood?” Alien said. “You told him about time travel too?” 

“I’m sorry,” Youngblood said. 

“You’d better be!” Alien exclaimed. “If we get captured by the Watch, it’s going to be your fault!” 

That was when Bandit ran up to the three of them. “Look Dad! Look Fwank!” she shouted. “Look what the mug can do!” She pushed the button on the side, and it transformed into a watch. Then, she pushed another button, and it turned back into a coffee mug. 

“That’s pretty rad, Bandit,” Frank said. 

“Frank, you’re missing the point,” Alien said. “Bandit, could you please give me the mug back?” 

“No!” Bandit exclaimed. She then pointed to Youngblood. “Who’s that?” 

“He’s...uhh...our friend,” Alien said. “Bandit, I’m serious. Give me the mug.” 

“Bandit, please listen to your dad,” Frank said. “We really need that back.” 

“No!” Bandit said as she turned it from a mug to a watch and back again. “I need it!” 

“You could bring something else for Show and Tell,” Frank said. “Maybe one of Gerard’s action figures?” 

“Those are collector’s edition, Frank,” Alien said. 

“It’s better than the mug, isn’t it?” Frank said. 

“Anything’s better than the mug,” Alien said. “Bandit, give it back.” 

“No!” Bandit said. She held the watch in her hands and then shouted “Catch!” as she tossed it toward Alien, Youngblood, and Frank. 

Youngblood watched the time machine fly through the air, and he froze, terrified that something would happen to it. That time machine was the only way out of this era. If it broke, then he would be stuck in 2014 forever. He would never get to come home.

Thankfully, Frank reached up into the air, caught the watch, and handed it to Alien. “Thanks Frank,” Alien said, smiling. “You’re the best.” 

“No problem, babe,” Frank said. “Bandit, let’s find something else for Show and Tell, okay?” 

Bandit pouted. “But I want the mug,” she said. 

“Gerard has a lot of coffee mugs,” Frank said. “I’m sure he’ll let you borrow any of the other ones. Just not that one.” 

While Frank tried to console Bandit, Alien and Youngblood ran back into the kitchen with the time machine. “Thank God you got it back,” Pepper said as Alien gave the watch back to Figment. 

Figment strapped the watch onto his wrist and quickly started typing. Youngblood wanted to do something to stop him, to keep him from going to 2016 and sacrificing himself for Frank, but it was too late. If he tried to take the watch now, Figment would know that he’d figured out the plan. Youngblood decided that he’d stop Figment as soon as he got there, but he still felt like he was letting Frank down. 

All of a sudden, Figment stopped typing, and all six Gerards vanished into thin air.


	43. California 2016

It took Youngblood a minute to figure out where they were this time. They were still inside someone’s house, but the scenery had changed a little bit. Frank and Bandit were gone, and the rooms were arranged differently, but some of the decorations looked similar. He figured out where they were as soon as he spotted the collector’s edition action figures on the shelf. They were the exact same ones he’d seen in 2014. 

“Huh,” Alien said. “I guess I must have moved.” 

“At least you didn’t move back into the Paramour,” Pepper said. 

“Oh no,” Alien said. “I would never live there again. That was awful.” 

“Hey Alien, I have a question,” Poison said. “Two questions, actually.” 

“Sure, what is it?” Alien said. 

“First of all, I thought the future was going to be post-apocalyptic and cool, just like our new album,” Poison said. “What happened?” 

Alien laughed. “You seriously think that 2019’s going to be like Danger Days?” 

“Figment said that it would be!” 

Alien glanced toward Figment, who tried to keep himself from laughing. “Well, I don’t know what 2019’s going to be like either, but I doubt that it’s going to be a post-apocalyptic wasteland.” Poison frowned, and Alien asked, “What’s your other question?” 

“How the hell did you get Frank out of New Jersey?” 

“I didn’t,” Alien said. Poison looked confused, so he added, “We split our time between LA and New Jersey. We wanted to live together, but he didn’t want to leave New Jersey, and I didn’t want to leave California, so we compromised.” 

“That makes sense,” Poison said. “I asked him once about moving to California, but he said something about liking the dirtiness of Jersey. I love Frank, but sometimes, I just don’t understand him.” 

“Hey guys, we should probably find the version of us from this era,” Figment said. “It’s nice that you two are getting along, but the clock’s ticking, and we need to get to Australia and save Frank.”

Save Frank. Youngblood knew what that meant now. He knew that Figment was going to sacrifice himself so that Frank could live, and he’d promised Frank that he wouldn’t let him do that. Youngblood didn’t want Frank to die either - he could hardly stand the thought - but he had to keep his promise. 

He glanced at Figment’s watch. It wouldn’t be too hard to steal the time machine and stop all of them from going to Australia. With no one there to save him, Frank would die in the bus crash. Youngblood had no idea how he would live without him, and he wasn’t sure that Frank dying was really any better than Figment dying, but at least he would keep his promise. 

There had to be a better way. Youngblood only wished he knew what it was. 

While Youngblood thought about everything that was going on and the increasingly hopeless situation that he’d found himself in, Figment opened a door and headed into the basement. Having learned his lesson from last time, Youngblood followed him. All six Gerards went downstairs, and when they reached the bottom of the staircase, they found the Gerard from 2016. He was wearing a hoodie, and his hair was back to its natural brown. He had a pencil and a sketchbook in his hands, and he was furiously writing down snippets of dialogue and drawing out his characters. He let lines become shapes, shapes become scenes, scenes become panels, and panels become pages, and sometimes, when everything was really coming together, his characters felt like they could burst through the pages and come to life at any moment. 

Some things never change. 

The Gerard from 2016 didn’t notice the others, so Figment inched closer. 2016 Gerard still didn’t look away from his comic. “Am I really this out of it when I’m writing?” Youngblood asked the others. 

“I asked Frank about that once, and he said yes,” Revenge said.

Figment came even closer, and 2016 Gerard still didn’t notice him. He didn’t even look up from the comic until Figment was right behind him. “What are you doing here?” he asked as he dropped his pencil. 

“We’re going to go save Frank, and we need your help,” Figment said. 

“But Frank’s okay,” 2016 Gerard said. “He’s on tour with his band in Australia right now, which is super cool. I miss him a lot, but I’m sure he’s having a great time over there. Actually, I should Skype him. Let me check if it’s a reasonable time there…” He reached to take out his phone, but then he realized the problem. “Shit,” 2016 Gerard said. “He’s in Australia. That’s why you’re here.” 

“I told you he was going to die in a bus accident in Australia in 2016, and you didn’t listen, Crash,” Figment said. 

“Crash?” he said. “Is that seriously my nickname?” Figment nodded, and Crash groaned. “Why can’t I have a cool nickname? I’d love a comic book reference nickname. That would be cool. Wait, I’ve got it! Wolverine! I’ll be Wolverine!” 

“No,” Figment said. 

Crash sighed. “I always had a good nickname before,” he said. “Youngblood, Revenge, Pepper, Poison, Alien...and now I’m stuck with a nickname that reminds me of my failure? I can’t believe I let Frank go to Australia! We both knew that he was going to die in a bus crash if he went there! How am I such a bad boyfriend?” 

“It’s going to be okay,” Figment said. “We’ll save him.” 

“Of course,” Crash said. “So can I have a different nickname? How about Negative Man? Can I be Negative Man?” 

“No.” 

Crash frowned. “Fine,” he said as he picked up his pencil again. “Let me finish drawing this, and then we’ll save Frank. Why the hell did I let him go to Australia? I’m literally the worst…” 

“What are you working on?” Youngblood asked suddenly. 

Crash looked up and noticed his past selves, waiting at the bottom of the staircase. “Doom Patrol,” he answered. 

“Wait, really?” Pepper said. “That’s amazing.” 

“I know, right?” Revenge said. “I’ve always wanted to write about them.” 

“Me too!” Poison exclaimed. 

“Hey Crash, can we see it?” Alien asked. 

“Yeah, Crash!” Revenge shouted. “Show us the comic!” 

Crash gestured for them to come closer, and all of the Gerards gathered around to take a look at Crash’s new comic. “It’s not done yet, obviously,” Crash said, but nobody seemed to care. 

Youngblood peeked over, and he could hardly believe his eyes. There they were, the characters that he’d grown up with, and his future self had come up with all kinds of brand new stories about them. Crash flipped through the sketchbook, breathlessly explaining the story arcs he’d come up with, while the others listened, awestruck. 

“I just want to say that I would totally read that,” Youngblood said when Crash was finished. “If I saw it at the comic book shop back home, I’d buy it in a heartbeat.” 

“Me too,” Revenge said. 

“Thanks,” Crash said. “It means a lot.” 

“It must be nice getting to stay home and write comics all day,” Alien said. 

“It is nice, but…” 

“But what?” Alien asked. “What could possibly be bad about writing comics for a living?” 

“I love comics, but sometimes, I miss being in a band,” Crash admitted. “I miss getting up on stage, singing, performing, making music, making art. I miss spending all those hours on the tour bus with my bandmates. I miss seeing Mikey and Ray every day. I miss playing shows with Frank. I miss being creative with him. I love his music, and I know that he’s really happy with his new band, but I miss being a part of it.”

“You should tell Frank that,” Figment said. “I’m sure he’d understand.” 

“I’m sure he wouldn’t,” Crash argued. “He’s so excited about Frank Iero and the Patience…” 

“Frank Iero and the Patience?” Alien interrupted. “I thought it was frnk iero andthe cellabration.” 

“He changed the band name,” Crash said. “Anyways, he’s excited about his band, and if we make it through this…” 

“When we make it through this,” Figment corrected. 

“When we make it through this,” Crash said. “I don’t want to take that away from him. I don’t want to take away his creative outlet. If he doesn’t want to get MCR back together, I don’t want to get MCR back together.” 

Youngblood wondered what an MCR reunion would look like anyways. Would it just be one last show, a final resurrection before Figment sacrificed himself for Frank? Maybe they would never get back together again if Frank died in the crash. He decided not to think too much about My Chemical Romance’s future though. It was an idea, one that would live even if all of its members were dead. Right now, he just had to keep his promise to Frank. 

“That’s fine, but I have a feeling that Frank will be more sympathetic than you think,” Figment said. “We’ll worry about that later though. We need to get to Australia.” 

“And how are we going to do that exactly?” Crash asked. “It’s not like all seven of us could just get on a plane without anyone asking any questions, and even if we could, we wouldn’t make it in time, would we?” 

Figment nodded. “We wouldn’t make it. The crash is going to happen in six hours.” 

“So how are we going to get there?” Pepper asked. 

“If only we had the Trans Am…” Poison said. 

“You can’t drive across an ocean, dumbass!” Revenge exclaimed. 

“We’re going to use the time machine,” Figment said. “Precision travel’s tricky, so I don’t know how well this will work, but I’m going to try to go to Australia without traveling in time.” 

“I hope it works,” Alien said. 

“Me too,” Crash said. “I don’t know what I’ll do if we can’t save Frank. I can’t live without him.” 

“We’ll save him,” Figment said. “Don’t worry.” 

“Well, it would help if you would tell us your plan,” Revenge said. 

Youngblood knew Figment’s plan, and it didn’t help at all, not when he still didn’t know how to stop it. He needed to come up with a plan of his own, or Figment would give up his life for Frank. He still didn’t know which was worse: Figment dying, or Frank dying. If he was being completely honest with himself, he couldn’t stand the thought of either of them losing their lives. He knew that everyone dies eventually, but both of them were far too young for this. He wished that he could go back to 2002 and get himself out of here before it was too late. 

Figment stayed quiet and typed “Australia 2016” into his watch, and before Youngblood could do anything about it, all of the Gerards disappeared.


	44. Australia 2016

They landed in the middle of a busy street, and when Youngblood heard the passersby speaking in Australian accents, he knew that they had made it to the right place. He looked around at all of the skyscrapers, once again in awe of his surroundings. He might have even enjoyed being in Sydney if he didn’t know what was going to happen next. 

Figment glanced at his watch. “Looks like I jumped five hours in the future,” he said. “That’s actually not bad, but we’re going to need to move fast if we’re going to stop the crash.” 

“And how are we going to do that exactly?” Revenge asked. 

“We’re going to split up,” Figment said. “Youngblood, Revenge, Pepper, and Poison, you guys are going to find the bus, and you’re going to make sure that it doesn’t crash into Frank’s van. Alien and Crash, you two are coming with me. We’re going to keep Frank and his bandmates safe.” 

Youngblood knew that he couldn’t let himself get separated from Figment. He couldn’t stop him from dying if they were nowhere near each other, but maybe that was why Figment was telling them to split up in the first place. “Hey Figment, could Alien and I trade jobs?” he asked. 

“I don’t see a problem with that,” Alien said. 

“No, that’s not happening,” Figment said. 

“Please, Figment?” Youngblood said. 

“No,” Figment said again. He turned to the four youngest Gerards and said, “The license plate number is HG42FR. I want you to find that bus and make sure that it stays far, far away from the Twitter headquarters, because that’s where Frank Iero and the Patience are playing. Do you understand?” 

“What’s a Twitter?” Youngblood asked, but nobody answered his question. 

“Yes, we’ve got it,” Poison said to Figment. “Come on guys. Let’s go save Frank.” 

Poison ran down the street, and Revenge and Pepper followed him. “Youngblood, what are you doing?” Revenge shouted when he didn’t follow the other Gerards right away. 

“Yeah, Youngblood!” Pepper exclaimed. “Come on!” 

Youngblood reluctantly followed the others. There was no getting out of this one. He would just have to come up with a way to stop Figment from a distance. 

As they wandered down the street, the Gerards chatted amongst themselves. “We should have a dance party after this is over,” Poison suggested. 

“I just want to go home after this is over,” Pepper said. “I still have a date with Frank tonight, and I wouldn’t mind taking a nap before that…” 

“You guys are so boring,” Revenge said. “We should time travel to Frank’s birthday and throw him a party. He deserves it.” 

“You’re right,” Pepper said. “He does.” 

“What if this doesn’t work?” Youngblood asked. “What if everything goes horribly wrong?” 

“It won’t,” Pepper reassured him. “Figment knows what he’s doing.” 

“I’m not so sure about that,” Youngblood said. 

“Figment’s you. He’s all of us, really,” Pepper said. “You don’t trust yourself?” 

“No, I don’t think I do.” 

There was an awkward silence, and then Poison asked, “What was the license plate number again? HT42FR?” 

“HG42FR,” Revenge corrected him. 

“You seriously don’t remember?” Pepper said. “Figment just said it.” 

“I was too busy coming up with new Killjoy slang to listen to him,” Poison said. 

Revenge and Pepper groaned. “Seriously?” Pepper said. “You’re going to get us all killed.” 

“You’re going to get Frank killed, which is even worse,” Revenge said. 

“Yeah, but there’s this giant road running through the Zones, and I think we should call it the Getaway Mile, and maybe we could mention that on some character account on Twitter with no context whatsoever…” 

“Seriously, what’s a Twitter?” Youngblood asked. “I really want to know.” 

“Never mind,” Poison said. 

Meanwhile, Pepper actually looked for the bus, and Revenge randomly wandered into a graveyard. “Revenge!” Poison shouted. “What are you doing?” 

“Reckoning with the fleeting nature of existence,” Revenge said. 

“You can do that later,” Poison said. “We need to save Frank now.” 

“Says the guy who can’t even remember the license plate number of the bus that’s supposedly going to kill Frank.” 

The four of them walked past a bus stop, and all of a sudden, a giant bus pulled over at the stop and opened its doors. As passengers got on and off, the Gerards ran to the back of the bus to check its license plate. “HG42FR,” Revenge read. “This is it.” 

“What are we going to do?” Pepper asked. 

“I’ve got a plan,” Poison said.

He ran to the front of the bus and scrambled on board, and Pepper, Revenge, and Youngblood followed him. “I need to see your ticket,” the bus driver said, completely unfazed by the four identical men that had just gotten on her bus. 

All of a sudden, Poison lifted his ray gun into the air and aimed it at the passengers. “EVERYBODY OFF THE BUS!” he shouted. “EVERYONE OFF, OR I’LL SHOOT!” 

Soon, the entire bus was in a state of panic. Some people did as they were told, looking terrified as they climbed off of the bus, while others frantically called the police. Eventually, the whole bus was empty, except for one mousy-looking teenage girl. 

“Oh my God! You’re Gerard Way!” she exclaimed. “Is this, like, some kind of promotion for your new album or something? I loved Hesitant Alien so much!” 

“Hesitant Alien?” Poison said. “Is that what Alien’s album is called? That would explain the nickname.” The girl looked confused, so Poison said, “Yes, this is all just a publicity stunt for Hesitant Alien II, but you’re ruining it! Get off the bus!” 

“Fine,” the girl said. “Can I get your autograph later?”

“Yeah, of course,” Poison said. 

The girl finally got off, and when the bus was empty, Youngblood climbed into the driver’s seat. He glanced at the controls and then looked out at the busy street, with all of the buildings and the people and the bright lights. “I don’t actually know how to drive a bus,” Youngblood admitted to the others. 

“You can do it,” Poison said. “I bet it’s not any harder than driving a car.” 

“Why can’t we just stay here?” Pepper asked. “We won’t hit Frank if we stay parked several miles away from the venue.” 

“Because the police are going to be here any minute,” Poison said. 

Youngblood took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel. “How do I start the bus?” he asked. 

Revenge closed the doors and then pushed a button that said, “Start Engine,” and all of a sudden, the bus roared to life. “Like that,” he said. 

Youngblood stepped on the gas and pulled right into oncoming traffic. He swerved out of the way of a black minivan, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision. “What are you doing?!” Poison shouted. 

“You’re driving on the wrong side of the road!” Pepper exclaimed. 

“I’m driving on the right side,” Youngblood said, confused. 

“Yeah! In Australia, that’s the wrong side of the road!” Pepper shouted. “Get on the left already!” 

Youngblood frantically swerved onto the other side, almost running over a rabbit in the process, but after that, he just cruised along for a while. Poison was right - it wasn’t much harder than driving a car. He just kept on driving, his heart rate slowing down as he carefully guided the bus away from the bus stop. 

Youngblood approached a stoplight, and he turned to his future selves. “Which way do I go?” he asked. 

“Left,” Revenge said, while Pepper simultaneously said, “Right,” and Poison said, “Just keep going straight.” 

“We can’t go straight, Poison!” Pepper shouted. “We’ll end up at the venue!” 

“I’m serious,” Youngblood said. “Which way should I turn?” The other Gerards were too busy bickering amongst themselves to answer, and the car behind him honked, so Youngblood veered right, skidding along the curb as he tried to avoid the other cars on the road. 

“Hey, did you know that there’s a Gerard Way in New Zealand?” Poison said as he looked at his phone. “We should go there sometime. Maybe we could take a picture next to the street sign or something.” 

“Actually, that would be pretty funny,” Pepper said. 

“Could you shut up?” Youngblood said. “I’m trying to drive.” 

“Hey, I’ve got a cool idea!” Pepper said. “I should put a hidden track on my new album. What do you think it should be about?” 

“Blood,” Revenge answered. 

“Perfect,” Pepper said. 

As Youngblood stopped at the next traffic light, he heard sirens wailing. “Shit,” Pepper said as he looked out the window at the police cars surrounding them. “They found us.” 

Youngblood knew what he had to do. He slammed his foot on the gas pedal, and he sped through the red light. The police cars raced after him, but he cut in and out of traffic, desperate to get away from them. 

Poison let out a cheer as Youngblood knocked over a stop sign. “I’ve always wanted to be in a police chase!” he exclaimed. 

“Are you insane?” Pepper said. “We’re probably going to jail after this.” 

“No, we’re going to prison,” Revenge said. “And you know what they do to guys like us in prison.” 

“You just wanted to reference your new song, didn’t you?” Pepper said. 

“Yes,” Revenge admitted. 

Youngblood ignored them and raced ahead at full speed, barely in control of the bus. He was driving like he had a deathwish, but so far, it was working. They were ahead of the police, but they hadn’t lost them yet. He only hoped that they would make it, that they wouldn’t get caught when they were so close to stopping the bus crash altogether. If the crash never happened, then maybe he wouldn’t even have to stop Figment from sacrificing himself. Maybe Frank and Figment could both live. 

“Youngblood!” Revenge screamed. “Up ahead!” 

Youngblood looked ahead, and there was a black van parked on the side of the road, with a group of people unloading gear. He didn’t know who most of them were, but he immediately recognized the man with the dyed black hair and a million tattoos. 

He was about to hit Frank Iero. 

Youngblood slammed on the brakes and spun the steering wheel away from Frank and his van, but it was too late. The bus was moving too fast. Revenge, Pepper, and Poison all braced themselves for the crash, while Youngblood just screamed. 

They were all flying toward the van, flying toward death, and there was absolutely nothing they could do to stop it.


	45. Australia 2016

Figment was hiding out inside a comic book shop when he spotted a giant bus hurtling down Park Street. He rushed over to the window, and he glanced at the license plate. HG42FR. This was it. This was the bus that was going to cause the accident. 

“Shit,” Figment said. “It’s heading straight for the van.” 

As he sprinted out the door, Crash and Alien finally looked up from their comic books. “What’s going on?” Alien asked. 

“Oh God,” Crash said as he looked out the window. “It’s going to hit Frank.”

All of a sudden, Crash and Alien ran after Figment. “Isn’t there something we can do?” Crash said. “Can’t we go back in time again or something?” 

“I don’t have much battery left,” Figment said quickly. “If I take you all back, then I won’t be able to bring us back to our own times. We’ll all be stuck in 2016.” 

Crash was fine with that, but Alien was terrified. “I have to go back to 2014,” he said nervously. “I can’t just skip over two years of my life.” 

Figment, however, didn’t listen to his past selves and kept running. He’d really thought that the others could keep the crash from happening, but he was wrong, so now, he was only hoping that he could stop the bus before it was too late. He’d failed, lost the fight, let down the man he loved most, but he could still fix this. 

Crash and Alien tried to follow him, but Figment turned around and said, “You’re not coming with me.” 

“Yes we are!” Crash exclaimed. 

“He’s our boyfriend too,” Alien argued. 

“I’m serious,” Figment said. “You’ll be safer in there.” 

“I don’t care!” Crash shouted. “I’m going to save Frank!” 

Figment glanced out the window one last time. The bus was skidding across the road, completely out of control. Within seconds, it would collide with Frank’s van. He had to act now. “We’re running out of time,” he said. “Stay in the shop.”

As Figment approached the van, he looked toward the bus, and then he looked into Frank’s eyes. As the bus barreled toward the van, he silently said his goodbyes to the man who stole his heart all those years ago. Then, he looked away from Frank and stepped closer to the bus. He was afraid, but as the seconds ticked by, he realized what he had to do. 

All of a sudden, the clock stopped ticking. 

At first, Figment thought he was in a dream. The bus had stopped completely, only inches away from the van. Frank and his bandmates were frozen in place, their unblinking eyes staring into the distance. The whole world had gone completely still. He walked across the street, cutting between stationary cars and motionless pedestrians. “Figment, what’s happening right now?” Alien shouted from the comic book shop, but he didn’t respond. 

One car cut through traffic, and Figment recognized it immediately. He doubted there was any other vehicle in the world with a giant Killjoy spider painted on the hood. 

“I thought I got rid of the Trans Am years ago,” Crash said, confused. 

“Let me handle this,” Figment said to Crash and Alien. “Stay in the shop.” 

The Trans Am skidded to a stop, and Figment nervously stepped toward it. As he approached the car, the driver rolled down the windows, and Figment looked inside. “Ray? Mikey?” Figment said. He smiled slightly and asked, “What are you doing here?” 

“You’re Gerard from the future, right?” Mikey said. Figment nodded. “We’re helping you save Frank, obviously.” 

Ray held up his time machine. “I stopped time for you,” he said. “We’re only supposed to do that in emergencies, so Billie Joe’s probably going to kill me if he finds out about this, but it will be worth it if we can keep Frank alive.” 

Figment didn’t know what to say. He’d always cherished his bandmates. He’d always known that he, Frank, Ray, and Mikey had something truly special, but this was different. They’d traveled halfway across the world for this, and Ray was risking his career with the Watch so that Frank could live. In all the years Figment had been a part of My Chemical Romance, he’d never felt so grateful for his bandmates, and he knew in his heart that he’d never get this feeling with any other band. “Thank you,” he finally said. “It means a lot that you’re here.” 

“No problem, Gerard, but you’re not the only one who cares about Frank,” Mikey said. “He’s our bandmate too.” 

“And we need to save him,” Ray said. “Time’s stopped right now for everyone and everything except for me, Mikey, the Trans Am, and any versions of you that exist in this time. How many are there of you anyways?” 

“Seven including me,” Figment said. “Alien and Crash are in the comic book shop across the street, and I don’t know where Youngblood, Revenge, Pepper, and Poison are, but I suspect they’re in the bus.” Mikey and Ray looked confused, so Figment said, “I nicknamed all of my past selves.” 

“Okay, that makes sense,” Ray said. “Let’s get everybody off the bus, and then we’ll see what we can do to help Frank and his bandmates.” 

Ray and Mikey got out of the Trans Am, and they followed Figment to the bus. They opened the doors, and sure enough, Youngblood, Revenge, Pepper, and Poison were inside. 

“This is crazy,” Mikey said as he looked into the bus. “It’s like there’s a Gerard for every album we made.” 

“I don’t get it,” Pepper said to the other Gerards. “What’s going on?” 

“Yeah, why aren’t we moving?” Revenge asked. 

“It’s a good thing that we’re not moving,” Poison said. “Maybe we won’t hit Frank.” 

“That’s a good point,” Revenge said. 

“Hey, maybe we could even do something fun,” Poison said. 

“Like throwing a parade?” Pepper suggested. 

“Or turning everyone in Sydney into a vampire?” Revenge suggested.

“Yeah, that seems fun,” Youngblood said. All of a sudden, he noticed Figment, Mikey, and Ray. “What are you guys doing here?” he asked. 

Ray sighed and said, “Just get off the bus, Gerard.” 

“We don’t want you to get hurt,” Mikey said. 

All four Gerards climbed off the bus. “I have a lot of questions,” Pepper said. 

“Yeah, me too,” Poison said. “Figment! Can you tell us how Ray and Mikey got here?” 

“That’s not important right now,” Figment said. “We need to save Frank.” 

Poison groaned, but he didn’t ask any more questions. Figment stepped closer to the scene of the accident, where Frank and his bandmates were unloading their gear. They were frozen in place, and if Figment didn’t know better, he would have thought that they were statues. Frank was stuck in the middle of a sentence, completely unaware of what was about to happen. Figment wished that he could take it all back, make it so that Frank would never have to experience the accident, but it was too late for that now. All he could do was make sure that Frank survived. 

Mikey surveyed the scene and said, “If we leave them here, the bus is going to crush them. They’ll die instantly.” 

“We have to move them,” Figment agreed. 

“But we can’t move them too far,” Ray said. “They’ll have a lot of questions if they move more than a few feet. We can’t explain time travel to Frank: the Watch won’t allow it. It’s bad enough that somebody told Mikey.” 

Figment immediately looked toward Youngblood, who had a guilty expression on his face. “But we can move them a little bit?” Figment said to Ray. “Maybe a little closer to the curb?” 

“Yes, we can do that,” Ray said. “They’ll think that they just stepped out of the way.” 

Figment walked over to Frank, and he dragged him toward the curb. The others did the same with Evan, Paul, and Matt, and soon, all of the members of Frank Iero and the Patience were far enough away from the bus. “It won’t be pretty,” Ray said. “But they’ll live.” 

Figment took a deep breath. He wasn’t ready for this, wasn’t ready to watch the accident again, but he didn’t have much of a choice. “Thanks again, guys,” Figment said to Ray and Mikey. 

“No problem,” Ray said as he and Mikey got back into the Trans Am. 

“See you later, Future Gerard,” Mikey said. 

Figment waved, and the Trans Am sped off again. Then, he turned back to his past selves. “I can’t believe you guys caused the crash,” he said. 

“It was Poison’s fault,” Revenge said. 

“No it wasn’t!” Poison exclaimed.

“You were the one who wanted to hijack the bus,” Revenge said.

“You hijacked a bus?” Figment said, seriously disappointed in his younger selves. 

“You all went along with it!” Poison said. “Anyways, this is obviously Youngblood’s fault. He was the driver.” 

“Me?” Youngblood said. “I didn’t do anything! I was just following your directions!” 

All of a sudden, the clock started ticking again, and the bus slammed into Frank’s van. 

For Figment, it was all déjà vu, but it wasn’t any better the second time around. There was an awful crashing noise, and there were ear-piercing screams. There were pieces of metal and shattered glass and blood spilling onto the pavement. The door of the van accordioned back, but the bus kept on skidding down the street. Figment spotted Frank being dragged across the curb, and he wished that he could do something, anything to ease his pain. Then, the bus came to a stop, and Frank went flying. 

That was when Crash sprinted out of the comic book shop. He rushed over to Frank, and before he hit the curb again, he caught him. Frank was bruised, covered in blood, and gasping for air, but he was safe now, cradled in his boyfriend’s arms. 

“Frank?” Crash said, but he didn’t respond. “Frank, are you okay?” When Frank still didn’t say anything, Crash started to cry. “Frank, please tell me you’re okay,” he said, his tears falling onto Frank’s bloody shirt. “I can’t...I can’t lose you.” 

“Gerard?” Frank said softly. “Am...am I alive?” 

“Yes, Frank, you’re alive!” Crash said as he held Frank close. “You’re here, you’re alive, and you’re going to be okay. I promise.”

“We’re not playing tonight, are we?” Frank said. 

“I don’t think so,” Crash said. 

“Where’s everyone else?” 

Evan suddenly shouted, “I can’t feel my legs!” As soon as he heard that, Frank got up, took off his rucksack, and ran over to him. Crash followed close behind, and soon, all seven of the Gerards cautiously approached the wreckage, ready to help Frank and his bandmates. 

Then, Figment heard sirens wailing, and a squad of police cars arrived at the scene of the accident. One police officer stepped out of her car and said to Figment, “We’re looking for a man in his thirties with red hair and a jacket that says ‘Dead Pegasus’ on it. Have you seen him?” 

“Figment!” Poison shouted as he hid behind the wrecked van. “Get us out of here!” 

Figment nodded and typed “California 2014” into his watch. He waved goodbye to Crash, and knowing that his work here was finally done, he pressed one more button on his time machine. Before the police could find them, Poison, Alien, Pepper, Revenge, Youngblood, and Figment vanished into thin air.


	46. Australia 2016

Crash opened the doors of the hospital, rushing past doctors and nurses as he headed toward Frank’s room, but he wasn’t Crash anymore. He’d never liked that nickname anyways, and now that his past and future selves were gone, there was no reason to use it. Without them, he was just Gerard. 

It had been three days since the accident, and miraculously, everyone in Frank Iero and the Patience had survived the crash. Gerard passed by Evan and Paul’s rooms, and he quickly waved to both of them. They’d both been badly injured in the accident, but they were thankfully doing better now. 

As Gerard approached Frank’s room, one of the nurses stopped him. “Visitation hours don’t start until two o’clock,” she said. 

“You let me in yesterday,” Gerard argued. 

“Only immediate family members are allowed in right now,” the nurse said. 

“Just let him in already,” Frank said, and the nurse obliged. She opened the door, and Gerard stepped into the hospital room. 

Not much had changed from the day before. The room was still lifeless and sterile, with only the stack of get well soon cards on the table next to the bed providing a splash of color. There were hundreds of them, from Frank’s family in New Jersey, from his friends in California, from his fans all over the world. Frank was lying in bed, watching The Nightmare Before Christmas on the grainy TV in his room. His skin was dotted with bruises, but he was alive, and that was what mattered. 

“I hate this fucking place,” Frank said as he turned off the TV. “The doctors say I’ll be out of here by next week though.” 

“That’s good to hear,” Gerard said as he sat down on the hospital bed. He missed Frank’s energy, but he’d be back to his old self soon. It would just take some time. 

“I couldn’t sleep at all last night,” Frank said. “I just keep replaying the accident in my mind…” 

“I can’t stop thinking about it either,” Gerard said. It was true. Every time he closed his eyes, he was back in the comic book shop on Park Street. He watched Frank flying through the air, and he remembered how he felt in that moment, how he thought that Frank might not make it. Before the adrenaline set in, he saw that miserable future flashing before his eyes, a future where he would live and die alone. It was a fate worse than death, and it had appeared in his nightmares every night since the accident. He wondered if it would always be like this, now that he had seen just how fragile life could be. 

“It’s crazy,” Frank said. “I could be dead right now, but I’m here. If it hadn’t been for that enormous rucksack I was wearing, I probably wouldn’t be alive right now.” 

Gerard laughed. “Do you really think it was the rucksack that saved you?” he said. 

“Yeah,” Frank said. 

“It wasn’t,” Gerard said. “It was me.” 

“What are you talking about?” Frank asked. 

“I caught you,” Gerard said. “You went flying, and I kept you from hitting the curb.” 

“I remember that, but I didn’t think it really happened.” Gerard looked confused, so Frank said, “Do you remember when we were making The Black Parade, and you said something about death coming for you in the form of your strongest memory?” Gerard nodded. “You’re my strongest memory, Gee. You’ve always been there, no matter what, and you’re probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me. So when I saw you, I thought I was dying. I thought you were death, coming to take me away.” 

Gerard leaned over and gently kissed Frank’s forehead. “You’re a fucking idiot, Frank, but I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Frank said. “So you really were there? You really saved me?” 

“Yeah, I did,” Gerard said. 

“How did you get to Australia so quickly?” Frank asked. 

“Time travel.” 

Frank took a moment to think. “When I talked to the version of you from 2002, he said something about trying to save me from a bus crash,” he said. “I guess this was the accident he was talking about.” Gerard nodded, and Frank said, “I thought the version of you from 2019 was going to sacrifice himself for me.”

Gerard hadn’t even thought about that possibility. “As far as I know, Figment’s still alive. He left shortly after the accident,” he said. “I’m still not sure why he went back in time, but I don’t think it matters now. I’ll figure it out eventually.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Frank said.

“I shouldn’t have let you go to Australia in the first place,” Gerard said. “We both should have known that the accident was going to happen.” 

“I tried to avoid touring in Australia for the longest time after I heard that I was going to die in a crash,” Frank said. “I felt like I was letting down my fans though. I figured that if I was going to die anyways, I might as well die on tour.”

“But you didn’t die.” 

“But only because I have the best boyfriend in the world.” 

Gerard blushed. “Thanks,” he said. “Do you need anything, by the way?” 

“A drink of water would be nice,” Frank said. 

“Alright,” Gerard said. “I’ll get that for you.” 

He stepped out into the hallway, and as he headed toward the water fountain, he thought about the other Gerards, the ones from the past and the one from the future. He wondered if they were okay, if they’d made it out of there before the police caught them. He wondered if Figment was finally happy, if he was living the life he’d always wanted to live, if he could smile without feeling like he was faking it.

His mind drifted back to the crash. In those ten seconds, when the bus and the van were colliding, he’d seen how beautiful, scary, and strange life could be, and he was only a bystander. Frank had looked death in the eye, and somehow, he’d made it out alive. He could only imagine how his boyfriend must be feeling right now, after having gone through all of that. 

Gerard got Frank his glass of water, and he went back into his room. “Thanks,” Frank said as he took the glass. 

“No problem,” Gerard said as he lay down next to him in bed. “I’ve got some more cards for you. Do you want to open them, or should I save them for later?” 

“Let’s open them now,” Frank said. 

Gerard handed Frank the stack of cards, and he opened them one by one. Some of them were from people that he didn’t even know, but every time he read some kind words, he smiled. He even cried tears of joy when he saw that Bandit had drawn a picture of him playing guitar to an audience of puppies. Finally, he reached the bottom of the pile, where there was a letter from Billie Joe Armstrong. 

“It says it’s for both of us,” Frank said with a smile. 

“Open it,” Gerard said. “I want to see what Billie has to say.” 

Frank tore the envelope open, and he read the letter out loud. 

_Dear Gerard (and Frank, I suppose),_

_It’s hard to acknowledge that you’ve made a mistake, but that’s exactly what I’m about to do. When I heard the news that Frank had been involved in an accident, I knew that I had made a serious mistake, and I deeply regret it. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry for arresting you back in 2006. I should have trusted you, but all I did was hinder your mission. Of course, it all worked out in the end. Time is inevitable, after all._

_But I’m NOT SORRY AT ALL for chasing you through time. You resisted arrest, and that’s against the law. I had every right to hunt you down. And I’m DEFINITELY NOT SORRY for kicking Supervisory Special Agent Toro out of the Watch. Our rules clearly state that Watch agents should only stop time in emergencies. Imagine the chaos that would ensue if we stopped time every time someone was about to die! We’d be hitting the pause button all the time, and that’s no way to live._

_Anyways, I hope Frank gets better soon. Can’t wait for his new album._

_Good riddance,  
Billie Joe Armstrong_

Gerard stared at the letter for a few minutes before he turned to Frank. “Do you know what he’s talking about?” he asked. “Because I sure don’t.” 

“No, but I got a letter from Billie Joe Armstrong!” Frank said. “That’s so cool!” 

“Yeah, that is pretty neat,” Gerard admitted. “Here, I’ll put it with your other cards.” He put the letter on the table, and then he snuggled closer to Frank. “Hey Frank?” he whispered. 

“What is it?” Frank whispered back. 

Gerard took a deep breath. It was now or never. “I’ve been thinking about something,” he said. “I really miss making music with you. I miss writing songs with you, I miss recording with you, and I miss being on stage with you every night.” 

“Yeah, I miss that too,” Frank said. 

“Really?” Gerard said. 

“Yeah,” Frank said. “I love playing with the Patience, but it’s...it’s not really the same.” 

“That’s how I felt about my solo career.” 

There was a long period of silence. “I don’t think I’m going to be doing anything for a long time,” Frank said. “I can’t even play the guitar right now. As soon as I’m better, I want to go back on tour with Frank Iero and the Patience, but maybe we could make time for a jam session or something. We could even ask Ray and Mikey to come. Only if they want to, of course, but I think it would be a lot of fun to get the gang together again. It might have to wait until next year. But I want to do it.” 

“Me too,” Gerard said. 

“Let’s do it then,” Frank said. “Let’s get My Chemical Romance back together.” 

Gerard smiled, and for the first time in a long time, it was a real, genuine smile. He and Frank had been through so much together, but they were alive, they were in love, and now, they were making music together again. He couldn’t ask for more out of this twisted, ugly, mixed-up world. 

He held Frank closer, and he never wanted to let him go.


	47. Kentucky 2004

When Youngblood opened his eyes, he found himself inside the tour bus at Warped Tour again, with Figment and Revenge by his side. Revenge stood there for a while, already looking a little disoriented, while Figment glanced out the window. “Youngblood, follow me,” Figment whispered as the tour bus door started to open. He ran to the back of the bus, and Youngblood and Figment hid behind an amp as Frank climbed on board. 

Youngblood had said a lot of goodbyes since leaving 2016. He’d watched Alien, Poison, and Pepper lose their memories. He’d seen them suddenly forget what they’d been through, what they’d seen in the future, the people that they’d become one day. He’d seen the confusion on their faces. He’d watched them struggle to remember. Alien and Poison desperately wanted to know whether or not the plan had worked, while Pepper simply assumed that the ghosts in the Paramour were messing with his head again. Youngblood wanted to help them somehow, but Figment told him that he couldn’t, that they needed time to sort this out on their own. Youngblood could only imagine how much it hurt to lose those memories, those visions of the future. 

Now, it was Revenge’s turn. 

There was a long period of silence as Revenge tried to figure it all out. “What just happened?” he finally asked. There was another pause, and then Revenge said, “Figment? Youngblood? Why didn’t we go anywhere?” When neither of them answered, he reached for his bottle of vodka and said, “Did you guys leave without me?”

“Gerard!” Frank shouted as he looked around the bus. “Are you in here?” All of a sudden, he spotted Revenge, ran over to him, and gave him a hug. “GERARD!” he screamed. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you!”

“Hi Frank,” Revenge said with a smile. 

“Who were you talking to?” Frank asked. 

“Nobody,” Revenge answered. 

“Okay,” Frank said. “We have to be onstage soon. Ray, Mikey, and Bob are already backstage…” 

“I can’t go onstage right now,” Revenge said. 

“Why not?” 

“I just...I can’t. Not right now.” 

“It’s because you’re sober, isn’t it?” Frank said. Revenge stayed quiet for a long time and then nodded. “Listen Gee, I know you don’t think you can perform without your drinks and your pills, but you can. I’ve seen you do it before. Can you please just stay sober and sing for us? It’s just for tonight.” 

“Just for tonight?” Revenge said. Frank nodded, and Revenge sighed. “I guess so,” he said. “I really don’t want to though.” 

“I know, but you can do it,” Frank said. “You’ll be okay.”

Revenge took a deep breath and said, “You promise?” 

“I promise,” Frank said. He took Revenge’s hand, quickly kissed him, and then said, “Come on. Let’s go find the others.” 

Frank ran off, and Revenge followed him, desperately trying to keep up with his boyfriend’s boundless energy. Once both of them were off of the bus, Figment and Youngblood stepped out from behind the amp. Figment immediately started typing something into his watch, but Youngblood stopped him. He didn’t want to leave quite yet, not before he got some answers. 

“You lied to me, didn’t you?” Youngblood said. 

“Lied to you?” Figment said. He seemed confused, but Youngblood could tell that he was just acting. 

“Yeah, you lied about Frank,” Youngblood said. “You said that he died in a bus crash in 2016, but he didn’t. We saved him, didn’t we? So unless there was another bus crash later in the year or some other crazy shit like that, you didn’t lose him. He’s alive in 2019. So why did you tell me he died?” 

All of a sudden, Figment smiled. “Very good, Youngblood,” he said. “You figured it out.” 

“Okay, but you didn’t answer my question,” Youngblood said. 

“I knew that you wouldn’t help me unless there was a good reason for it,” Figment said. “So I told you that Frank died to convince you to come with me.” 

“But why did you need me at all?” Youngblood asked. As far as he was concerned, all he had done was cause the bus crash in the first place. He’d nearly killed Frank, and as it was, he’d hurt nearly everyone involved in Frank Iero and the Patience. Figment would have been better off without him. 

“Frank wouldn’t have survived that bus crash if it wasn’t for us,” Figment said. 

“Frank wouldn’t have been in that bus crash if it wasn’t for us,” Youngblood argued. 

“Fair point.” 

Youngblood paused to think and then said, “I was sure you were going to sacrifice yourself to save Frank. I was trying to stop you.” 

“I know, but that was never part of the plan,” Figment said. “Frank was just jumping to conclusions. I remembered how this was going to go. I remembered that time was going to stop from when I was Crash. I knew all along that the plan would work.” 

“Then why didn’t you tell us that?” 

“Because then you would know that Frank was alive.” 

“I still don’t get it.” 

Figment sighed and said, “We could ask ‘what if?’ questions all day, but there’s no point. Time is inevitable. Any repercussions of travel to the past are already being felt in the present. 2019 is the way that it is because I went back in time, and to be honest, I like 2019 an awful lot. I wouldn’t change a thing about my life back home.”

“What’s 2019 really like?” Youngblood asked. 

Figment smiled and said, “Just wait and see.”

Youngblood frowned. He didn’t want to wait that long just to find a little bit of happiness. He’d seen what would happen to him. He’d seen his dreams come true, but he’d also seen his worst nightmares brought to life before his eyes. He’d seen too much, but more than that, he was afraid. He wasn’t afraid of death, not after he’d watched that accident, but he was afraid of going home and facing Ray, Mikey, and Frank, afraid of not having a time machine to get him out whenever life got tough, afraid of living again. 

He didn’t know where he was supposed to go from here. 

Youngblood stared out the window, where there were fans gathering around the Maurice Stage. The last band had just finished, and now, My Chemical Romance was about to take the stage. He still didn’t know how he felt about his band’s success. He’d started MCR for himself, so that he could get out of the basement, make music, make a difference in the world. He’d never thought that anyone would ever call MCR their favorite band, much less someone as talented, passionate, and beautiful as Frank Iero. He wondered what Frank was up to right now, what he was thinking about, how he felt about Revenge. 

“Hey Youngblood?” Figment said. 

Youngblood tore his eyes away from the window and looked at his future self. “What is it?” he asked. 

All of a sudden, Figment gave him a hug. “I know the next few years are going to be tough for you,” he said. “There will be good times, there will be bad times, there will be times when you’ll wish you weren’t alive at all, but you’ll make it through, and you’ll grow into a better musician, a better artist, a better writer, a better person. You just have to trust your friends and your family. Frank, Ray, and Mikey will always be there for you, no matter what, and if you count on them, everything will be alright. The world’s after you, but you can win. We can win. You just have to stay strong for us.” 

“I will,” Youngblood said. 

Figment smiled and held onto his past self for a little longer, but all of a sudden, a guitar riff boomed through the tour bus. As Figment let go, Youngblood looked toward the window. My Chemical Romance had taken the stage, and the crowd was going wild. Frank was playing guitar and jumping around on stage, and just as Revenge stepped up to the microphone, he came close to him and whispered something in his ear. 

“Well if you wanted honesty, that’s all you had to say…” Revenge sang, and Youngblood pressed his nose up against the glass, eager to hear more. 

“We should go,” Figment said. “We can’t stay here forever. You need to go back to 2002, and I need to go back to 2019.” There was a faraway look in his eyes as he added, “I can’t wait to see Frank again. I haven’t been away that long, but I miss him already.” 

“Me too,” Youngblood said. It had been interesting meeting Frank in the future, but he wanted to see his Frank again, the one from 2002, even if it meant losing all of his memories of the future. 

As Figment typed “New Jersey 2002” into his watch, Youngblood turned to him and said, “I’ll see you in two years, right?” 

“Yeah,” Figment said. “See you in two years.” 

He finished typing, and Youngblood adjusted his leather jacket and took a deep breath. This was it. In a few moments, he’d be back at the album release party in 2002, and he wouldn’t remember a thing about the future. 

Figment and Youngblood disappeared, leaving the tour bus empty once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading Calibrations! There are only two chapters left in the book, but I'm thinking of writing some bonus material (alternate endings, oneshots set in this universe, etc.) after I'm done. I might even take some requests from readers! Also, I'm going to write a Star Wars/My Chemical Romance/Fall Out Boy crossover, and I'm super excited about it. If you're interested, please subscribe, and thank you again for supporting my fanfiction!


	48. New Jersey 2002

When Youngblood opened his eyes, he saw that he hadn’t gone anywhere at all. He was still in New Jersey, a few blocks away from the album release party. Something must have gone wrong, but surely, Figment would have some answers. “Hey Figment?” he said, but his future self was gone. Youngblood looked around, wondering where he was supposed to go from here. 

No, not Youngblood. Here, he was all alone. Here, he was just Gerard.

There were a few lingering visions, but they weren’t quite visions. They were too real for that: they felt more like memories than visions. There was a luxurious mansion, a city street, a car with a spider painted on the hood, a drawing of Frank, but they were all disappearing fast. Gerard tried to hold onto them, but it was like waking up from a dream. The visions faded, and soon, they were gone. 

Gerard searched for Figment, but there was nobody else around. As he realized just how alone he was, he collapsed onto a bench and sighed. Just as he was starting to get some answers, his future self had vanished once again. This had been a waste of time. He could have been drawing comics in the basement, writing some new songs, or drowning his sorrows at the album release party. 

He got up and started walking back toward the house where the party was. He wasn’t sure if that was really where he wanted to be, but at the very least, he could get his car and drive home. Between kissing Frank on the balcony and running into the mysterious man again, a lot had happened that night, and he needed some time to process it all. 

As he headed back to the party, Gerard thought about what his future self had said about Frank. Figment said that he would die in 2016, and Gerard had no idea whether or not they would be able to save him. He suspected that it wouldn’t work, that they would fail somehow, that Frank would die anyways. It hurt him to think about, but he was afraid that he was right.

Then again, none of that changed how he felt about him. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Frank’s beautiful face, he heard crashing guitar chords accompanying his voice, he tasted his kiss on his lips. Knowing that Frank would die didn’t change any of that. Gerard was afraid of Frank rejecting him, afraid of his band falling apart, afraid of anyone else finding out just how obsessed he was with his rhythm guitarist, but he wasn’t afraid of death. Besides, maybe his future self was right. Maybe they would manage to save Frank somehow. Maybe he had nothing to worry about. 

Gerard returned to the party, but he couldn’t find Frank. He looked everywhere, from the bar to the backyard to the table where they were passing out copies of I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love. He even climbed upstairs and checked the balcony, but he wasn’t there either. Gerard leaned against the railing, but somehow, the view didn’t seem so picturesque without Frank. 

Eventually, he gave up and looked for his brother, who was much easier to find. He was on the first floor, drunkenly chatting with a blonde-haired woman in her twenties. 

“Hey Mikey, it’s getting late,” Gerard interrupted. “We should probably leave.” 

“Fuck off, Gerard,” Mikey said. “You’re just mad that Frank left.” 

He wasn’t wrong, but Gerard wasn’t about to admit that. “No, I’m just tired, and I want to go home,” he said. 

“Then leave me alone,” Mikey said. 

“Fine,” Gerard said. “You’re not going to have a ride home, but I guess that’s your problem.” 

He stormed off, got into his car, and started driving home. As he drove, he put on a Black Flag album, but it reminded him a little bit too much of Frank. He still wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do about his tattooed guitarist. He wished that he had asked his future self about that while he was still here. Maybe he could have given him some helpful advice, something to ease the butterflies in his stomach. 

As soon as Gerard got home, he called his grandmother. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like he needed to talk to her. Of course, she wasn’t awake at this time of night, but he left a voicemail just to say hello. Then, he put down the phone and lay in bed for a while, visions of Frank dancing through his head. As he thought about the way Frank had kissed him, the electricity that had flowed between them, he felt like his heart might explode at any second, but eventually, his drowsiness overtook him. His heartbeat slowed, and he fell into a dark, dreamless sleep. 

The days drifted by, and Gerard and Frank hardly spoke. Whenever they had band practice together, they played through the setlist without acknowledging that anything had happened between them. Gerard still spent his time dreaming of Frank, staring at him during rehearsals, drawing pictures of him in his sketchbook, but he was afraid that Frank didn’t feel the same way about him. After every rehearsal, he promised himself that he’d talk to Frank next time, but he never did. Sometimes, he worried that they’d ruined a beautiful friendship. Sometimes, he worried that they were drifting apart. 

Less than a week after the release of I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love, My Chemical Romance played a show in their hometown. Gerard didn’t expect much - they were a small, obscure band that had just released their debut album - so he was shocked when he saw the number of people lining up to enter the venue. He panicked as he helped his bandmates set up their equipment. He was sure that he wouldn’t be able to do this, that he wouldn’t be able to play for so many people. Even when he stepped onstage, he was sure that something would go horribly wrong. 

When he heard the sound of Frank’s guitar, something changed. He felt calm, prepared, happy. He looked over at Frank, and when Frank winked at him, he smiled. They hadn’t said a word, but somehow, he felt connected to him again. His worries floated away as he opened his mouth and began to sing. 

They blasted through the set with more energy and enthusiasm than ever. Gerard was on fire, singing and screaming like he had nothing left to lose. Every time the roar of the crowd became too much for him, he looked back at Frank, and he felt like everything was going to be okay. Just knowing that Frank was there, alive and onstage with him, was enough. 

When the show was over, after Ray, Mikey, and Matt had left, Gerard found Frank packing up his guitar. He took a deep breath, and he hoped that this would work, that he wasn’t making another grave mistake. “We need to talk,” he said to Frank. 

Frank finished putting his guitar away and turned around to face Gerard. “About the other night?” he said. 

“Yeah,” Gerard said. 

“Listen, I’m really sorry about that,” Frank said. “I shouldn’t have…” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Gerard said. “I meant what I said that night. I like you a lot, and I have for a long time.” Frank smiled, and Gerard continued on. “And I was wondering...I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee with me sometime?” 

“Are you asking me out, Gee?” 

“Yeah...yeah, I guess I am,” Gerard said nervously. 

“Yes!” Frank exclaimed, without thinking. When he saw the expression on Gerard’s face, both surprised and overjoyed, he added, “I mean, you’re my best friend, you’re the lead singer of my favorite band, you’re probably the hottest guy on the planet, and you’re just an all-around amazing person. Did you really think I was going to say no?” 

“I don’t know,” Gerard said. “I was just kind of worried…” 

“There’s no need to be,” Frank interrupted. “You mean so much to me, Gerard, more than words could ever say. I can’t wait to go out for coffee with you.” 

In the days leading up to his first date with Frank, Gerard was in a state of bliss. He spent all of his time thinking about him, wondering how he could make this experience special. Then again, spending time with Frank was special enough as it was. Frank was one of the few people in the world who truly understood him, who shared his love for art and music, who supported him unconditionally. As Gerard prepared for the date, he stopped worrying about what Figment had said about Frank dying in a car crash in 2016. He had plenty of time to fix that. For now, he wanted to focus on happier things. 

The day finally came, and Gerard picked Frank up at his house. As Frank climbed into the passenger seat, Gerard admired just how gorgeous he was. He couldn’t believe his luck. He couldn’t believe that he was really going on a date with someone like Frank Iero. He worked up the nerve to say hello, and soon, Gerard and Frank launched into a long conversation about the band, about dogs, about superheroes, about Gerard’s undying love for Starbucks, about music, about life. They drove around the coffee shop a hundred times, too busy chatting and singing along to the radio to stop the car. Gerard never wanted this to end, this warm feeling in his heart he got whenever he was with Frank. 

Eventually, Gerard parked the car, and the two of them climbed out. As they headed into the coffee shop, Frank said, “I know this date’s not over, but I think it’s the best one I’ve ever been on.” 

“Me too,” Gerard said. All of a sudden, Frank held onto his hand, his tattooed fingers interlaced with Gerard’s. Gerard looked over at Frank and smiled.

When Frank took his hand, he felt like he would never be afraid again.


	49. California 2019

At last, Figment was back in 2019. He looked around the room, admiring his shelves of comic books and action figures, and he heard Frank’s dogs and the soft sounds of an acoustic guitar welcoming him back. He was home, he was safe, and he felt like he could be himself once again. There was no need for a nickname here. Here, he was just Gerard. 

Gerard headed toward the living room, the guitar sound growing louder with every step he took. He glanced at the clock, and he saw that he was twenty minutes early. He hadn’t quite made it to the right time, but he was close enough. All he had to do was wait, and everything would be right in the world again. 

He entered the living room, and Frank was there, practicing his guitar. He stood in the doorway for a while, listening to his boyfriend’s beautiful melodies. Over the course of his time travel adventure, he’d met versions of Frank from every era, and he loved them all, but he still thought the Frank that was right in front of him, working on a new guitar riff, was his favorite. 

All of a sudden, Frank looked up and put his guitar down. “Hey Gerard,” he said as Gerard sat down on the couch next to him. “I thought you were in the office. You were working on setting up your time machine, or something like that.” 

“Actually, I just got back,” Gerard explained. 

“How did it go?” Frank asked. 

“Everything went according to plan,” Gerard said. “I found all of my past selves, we kept you from dying in the crash, and we all got home safely.” He paused and then added, “I don’t know how you put up with me in the past though. All of my past selves were really fucking annoying.” 

“You know, even in your worst moments, you were still creative, sweet, and beautiful,” Frank said as he cuddled up next to Gerard. “You still meant the world to me, no matter what.” 

“Sometimes, I seriously question your taste in men.” 

“Oh, come on,” Frank said. “You know I love you.” 

“I love you too, Frank,” Gerard said. “Now and always.” 

They kissed, slowly and passionately, and Gerard felt like he couldn’t get enough. Even after over a decade together, he still felt sparks every time he was around Frank. So much had changed since they’d first met, but Gerard doubted that the way he felt about Frank ever would. 

When they finally pulled away from each other, Frank said, “You look kind of tired, Gee. Do you want me to make you some coffee?” 

“Yeah, that would be great,” Gerard said. He took off his watch, transformed it into a coffee mug one last time, and handed it to Frank. 

Frank got up and went into the kitchen to make some coffee, while Gerard lay down on the couch and closed his eyes. He was still trying to process everything, all of those old memories he’d relived. More than anything, he was glad to be home, to be back in his own time, to be with Frank again.

Frank came back with a mug full of steaming hot coffee, and he gave it to Gerard. “Thank you, Frank,” Gerard said as he took a sip. It was just the way he liked it. 

“You’re welcome,” Frank said as he sat down next to Gerard and rested his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. 

“So what are we doing tonight?” Gerard asked as he took another sip of coffee. 

“I think we have band practice later,” Frank said. 

Gerard smiled. He couldn’t wait to see Ray and Mikey, to perform with them, to make music again. Back when he’d first started dating Frank - it felt like forever ago now - he’d thought that being in a relationship with him would tear the band apart. He thought My Chemical Romance would turn into Fleetwood Mac, but it never happened. He and Frank were still together, still hopelessly in love with each other, and the band was closer than ever. 

“That’s going to be a lot of fun,” he said. 

“I think so too,” Frank said, smiling. 

“And Lindsey has Bandit until next week?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “I love that kid to death, but sometimes, it’s nice to get some time alone with you.” Gerard nodded and came a little closer to Frank. “I can’t wait for the Shrine show,” Frank added. 

“Me neither,” Gerard said. “We’re finally playing Make Room live!” 

“Yeah!” Frank exclaimed. “I can’t wait!” 

“You’re going to kill it out there.” 

“No, we’re both going to kill it out there.” 

“We’re all going to,” Gerard said. “Mikey and Ray included.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Frank said. “Have you talked to Geoff lately, by the way? Thursday’s opening for us, right?” 

“Yeah,” Gerard said. “He might be the most excited out of all of us.” 

“I wouldn’t say that,” Frank said. “Mikey already bought ‘Mikey Fuckin’ Way’ bass picks.” 

Gerard laughed. “Of course he did.” 

“I’m just so glad that My Chem got back together,” Frank said. “They’re my favorite band.” He smiled as he added, “And it doesn’t hurt that they have a very handsome lead singer.” 

“But don’t forget about the gorgeous rhythm guitarist.”

Frank smiled and kissed Gerard one more time. “I’m so glad you made it home,” he said softly.

“Me too.” Gerard stared off into the distance as he said, “I just don’t know what I’m going to do after this.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“All my life, I knew that I would make it to 2019,” Gerard explained. “I knew that I’d be a comics writer, I knew that one of those comics would be made into a TV show, I knew that I’d get a time machine, and I knew that I’d be in love with you. But I’ve never met any of my future selves from after 2019. I have no idea what’s going to happen to me now. I don’t know where I’ll go from here, and I’m scared, Frank. I could die tomorrow, for all I know.”

“Don’t do that,” Frank said. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

“I don’t think I will. I just wish I knew where I’m going to go from here.” 

“You’re just like everyone else now, Gerard,” Frank said. “Most of us don’t know what’s going to happen to us, and we have to keep on living anyways. Trust me, Gee, you’re going to be okay. I’ll always be there for you.” 

“Thanks, Frank,” Gerard said. After listening to Frank, he felt like he could take on the world again. It didn’t matter what would happen tomorrow, next week, next month, next year. The past was gone, and the future didn’t exist. There was only today, this glorious, beautiful present. 

“Hey Gee, do you want to listen to this song I wrote?” Frank asked. 

“Sure,” Gerard said. “Is it for MCR or Frank Iero and the Future Violents or…” 

“No, none of those,” Frank said. “It’s too personal for that. It’s...it’s a love song. I wrote it for you.” 

Frank picked up his guitar again, and he started to play. Gerard listened closely, and soon, he was lost in the music. It was moments like this that reminded him why he had fallen for Frank in the first place, why they’d spent so much of their lives together, why he’d gone back in time to save him, why, even now, they were completely inseparable. By the time Frank hit the second chorus, Gerard was singing along, just like Frank had at the My Chemical Romance show where they’d first met. 

This was why Gerard had gone back in time. So he could be with Frank. So he could have art and romance in his life. So he could stop this endless cycle of self-destruction. So he could feel hope, friendship, and love. So he could finally, after all of these years, be happy. 

While Gerard listened to the song Frank had written for him, Figment was in his office, trying to calibrate his time machine. “Come on, you piece of junk!” he shouted. “Calibrate already!” The watch didn’t do anything, so Figment tried again. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on himself, tried to make the watch recognize his thoughts.

Finally, it worked. The time machine calibrated, and Figment quickly typed “New Jersey 2002” into his watch. In an instant, he was gone. 

When he opened his eyes, he was at the top of the staircase in his childhood home in New Jersey. As he slowly headed downstairs, something seemed off, but he couldn’t say for sure what it was. He heard the Smashing Pumpkins blaring from the basement, and the walls were covered in posters of the comic book characters he loved, or at least, the ones he’d loved as an angsty teenager.

He approached the bottom of the staircase, and there was a teenage boy there, furiously writing a comic book. Teenagers scared the living shit out of him, but Figment slowly walked toward the boy anyways. Suddenly, the boy dropped his pencil and turned toward Figment. He looked familiar, but it was the face that tipped him off. It was like looking into a mirror. 

“Aw, fuck,” he muttered. “I think I’m in the wrong year.”


End file.
